


Drunken Truth

by flopte



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: All the cheese in the world, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flopte/pseuds/flopte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol keeps getting drunk. Kyungsoo gets mad.</p><p>or</p><p>That really cheesy College AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Truth

**Author's Note:**

> For Mika, because I've promised her this fic ages ago. I'm sorry, I don't really like how it turned out, but I'm too far gone to stop so I was just like, fuck it, I'm gonna publish it and be done with it lol. I AM SORRY I PROMISED YOU COLLEGE AU BUT THIS IS MORE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL? BUT WITH EXTRA DRAMA? Seriously. I'm sorry. Also for sooditto, because these people let me be Chansoo trash by indulging my whims and headcanons. 
> 
> Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Please proceed with caution, it's the cheesiest thing anyone has ever done.
> 
> TW: Tagging this as **dubious consent** because there's making out under the influence of alcohol, a couple of times.

Chanyeol is walking towards him, one hand full with black plastic bags, another a pack of beer. Chanyeol is walking towards him, his face putting on a wan smile, one that Kyungsoo knows reserved for occasions like this.

"Did you get your scooter ready?" he asks before he awkwardly pats Kyungsoo's shoulders as a greetings. Awkward because he seemed like he would have gone for a hug but stopped midway.

Kyungsoo nods anyway, head tilting towards the scooter parked a few meters away. "Where to?"

Chanyeol hangs the bags on the handle of Kyungsoo's scooter, cradling the pack of beer cans near his hips. "Han River?" he asks in reply, not looking back at Kyungsoo. "Can I ride yours? I don't feel like riding my own."

"Okay," Kyungsoo agrees. "You sure, though?" He gestures towards to the six-pack. "I mean I don't mind having to handle you getting drunk but maybe we should just get upstairs for that."

Chanyeol is fiddling with the scooter handle, eyes still downcast. "Yeah, probably."

Kyungsoo sighs, closes the distance between them, and takes the bags from the handle. "Tell you what. Let's get you wasted and I’ll ask Minho to cover for you if you’re too hungover for classes tomorrow."

"I don't have morning classes, you do,” Chanyeol protests.

Kyungsoo shrugs, a little smile playing on his lips.

"This is why you're my best friend," Chanyeol announces, sounding as automatic as a mindless thank you.

Kyungsoo drags Chanyeol by the wrist to the lift of the dorm, as if the taller wouldn't have walked forward by himself, his words unheeded.

Chanyeol has, on multiple occasions, pronounced that Kyungsoo is his best friend, his soulmate.

Kyungsoo thinks either he doesn't really understand what those words mean or he doesn't really mean what he says.

Or maybe he uses those words lightly that it loses its meaning, like how Oprah’s ‘Favorite Things’ giveaways have made it seem like a car was a mere few extra bucks to blow. _"You get a car! You get a car! You get a car! A car for everyone!"_

Now, that wasn’t a fair comparison. Getting a free car is always cool, especially since the scooter doesn’t protect him from snow and rain and worse, puddle splash. But it’s basically:

"Kyungsoo is my soulmate. Baekhyun, too. Jongdae? He's basically me. Like, the kinder version of me. Jino is the brother I never had."

Calling people his soulmate is basically Chanyeol’s personal version of ‘Favorite Things’ giveaways.

Perhaps, that’s only because Chanyeol has got a big heart, gives so much love to people around him that Kyungsoo thinks sometimes he only knows how to give, forgets how to receive. Becomes graceless, turns dismissive in the face of affection.

"Slow down with the thinking." Chanyeol shoves him by the elbow, demanding attention. He throws at Kyungsoo his standard faux-menacing glare. "You're drowning me with your thoughts and mind you, I'm planning to drown myself with alcohol instead tonight, thanks."

Kyungsoo snorts, the sound deliberately made harsher through his nose. He tilts his head up, looking at Chanyeol, their height difference making him do so. Pries the taller's right arm from his side to snake his own through it. Chanyeol looks down at him, eyes understandably questioning.

"It's cold," Kyungsoo reasons.

Chanyeol doesn't look bought, merely scrunches the sides of his lips in dismissal, a funny smile playing on his lips. He looks amused that Kyungsoo is actively choosing to be in close proximity with him. Kyungsoo doesn't like that Chanyeol has to feel that, but doesn't try to rectify it either.

When they arrive at the dorm, Jongin and Sehun are bickering on the sofa in the living room while playing the League of Legends. Jongin greets with a smile when he turns around and sees them, always does, as if Kyungsoo didn't just get down from there minutes ago. Sehun doesn't acknowledge their presence more than a brief lift of brows. Chanyeol ruffles Sehun's hair on the way to the hall and Sehun hisses, sounding properly annoyed when he just lets Chanyeol do it, not shoving his hand away. Chanyeol's belated laugh reverberates in the hallway where the cupboards are, storing miscellaneous things that are mostly junk food and random things for which they don’t have a proper space. Random things like Chanyeol’s MVP medal for his high school’s state championship. _That show-off._

Kyungsoo listens to his movements than he sees it, knows that Chanyeol rummaging through the shelves, possibly stealing junk food from Kyungsoo’s partition.

"Is this gonna be one of those nights?" Jongin asks from his repose, now sprawling across the couch like he owns it, like Sehun isn't sharing space with him. "Because if it is then I'm gonna join Baekhyun hyung and sleep here."

Baekhyun shares a room with Junmyeon upstairs but it has been established among them that the living room is his space. Mostly because Junmyeon is the messiest person to live with, but also because Baekhyun is a little bit of a claustrophobic. Their rooms are a tad small, as most university dormitories are. He’s never said it out loud, but the word around town is one time he was stuck in a jammed elevator and either vomited on or peed in his pants – the story varies, depending from whom you hear it from. Jongdae, too, was there when it happened; he looks like he always has a lot to say about it when people ask for verification, but all he has ever said is, “It wasn’t pretty.” To this day, Baekhyun still takes the stairs. This reaffirms the well-accepted notion that Jongdae is a good friend.

"What night?" Kyungsoo asks, eyes distractedly switching focus from the hallway to Jongin.

"You know," Sehun cuts in instead, and Kyungsoo knows for a fact Sehun is going for what he thinks is good enough for a punchline. Kyungsoo will bet good money it's not even in the zipcode of good.

"In which you and Chanyeol hyung talk about your quarter life crises, philosophy of life, the great wonder of the future - something like that. I mean, actual adult pillow talk. Not the _exciting_ kind, either."

 _Sure enough._ Kyungsoo makes a face that should tell Sehun just how unimpressed he is. Jongin throws Sehun a look, and then Sehun meets his eyes with a childish pout. These two always seem like they’re sharing long-running inside jokes that nobody else seems to get, so Kyungsoo won’t even bother.

"We don't do pillow talks." Kyungsoo glares at Sehun halfheartedly. He’s curious as to what the look was for, but unsure if he wants to know the answer. Ignorance is, after all, bliss.

Chanyeol emerges from the hallway, hugging several packets of junk food to his chest. He gestures to Kyungsoo to follow him. Immediately, Kyungsoo runs past him to get to their shared room, opens the door for him. Chanyeol waddles in carefully with the load being balanced on his chest and the plastic bags around his fingers. Before Kyungsoo closes the door Sehun's eyes meet his, the expression on his face undecipherable.

***

Kyungsoo tries not to drink much, only on his first can of beer while Chanyeol is already on his fifth. He watches Chanyeol gulp down his beer like he can't wait to get to drunk on it, no intention to relish in the taste, not that people really drink cheap mass-produced beer for the gourmet experience. Kyungsoo feels like an intervention is in order anyway, and so he holds Chanyeol's elbow, stopping him from downing a whole can of beer in one shot. He has learned first-hand how well Chanyeol can handle his alcohol but this feels like a punishment from Chanyeol to himself.

Chanyeol turns to scowl at him, his beer still held midway, stopped by Kyungsoo's hand on his elbow. Kyungsoo smiles in return, not because he feels like it, but because it feels like Chanyeol needs it. Needs a reassuring smile from a friend, to find solace in a familiar face. Chanyeol doesn't smile back, which is a shame because Chanyeol, well, let’s just say he got lucky in the looks department that is even more accentuated when he smiles.

Chanyeol's ears are flushed, the only sign of alcohol affecting him. He puts down his drink, the other hand mindlessly rubbing his elbow where Kyungsoo has touched. Kyungsoo feels the urge to ask what's wrong, but swallows it down. If Chanyeol wants to share, he will.

Chanyeol rubs his nape, redness creeping there too. He sighs the long suffering sigh, and if Kyungsoo ever tells anyone that this side of Chanyeol exists not many will believe it, with so many people putting him on a pedestal. Park Chanyeol, the varsity’s undisputable ace slash point guard; also, people person with the sunniest disposition.

"I feel like," Chanyeol eventually starts, "like . . . if we’re done with this, with school and me with basketball, I've got nowhere to go."

"What do you mean?" Kyungsoo asks, putting down his can on the floor. He crosses his legs and hugs his knees close to chest, attention fully on Chanyeol now.

"Like, you've got your theater thing going on and you're gonna go far, Kyungsoo, I know it. Junmyeon hyung, whatever he does now, he will go back to his dad's company. There’s probably an empty but fancy glass-walled office ready for him there. Jongin probably would stay to teach or open up his own dancing academy, or something. Jongdae and Baekhyun - and you - you all could actually be what you’re studying for. Sehun would probably do whatever Jongin does. Yixing got his studio set up for him back home. Minseok hyung could do basically anything? Jack of all trades, and all that jazz. And I, well, I've got nowhere to go."

Chanyeol doesn't let his guard down often, sharing his moment of weakness derived from misplaced insecurities conjured out of nothing. He's staring at the wooden flooring of their room, the tip of his index absentmindedly playing at the edge of the beer can. Park Chanyeol is a great many things, but God forbid Chanyeol lets himself be vulnerable.

"In the next 10, 20, 30, 100 years, let's always be together - didn't I tell you that?"

Kyungsoo actually did, two years ago. Chanyeol’s birthday. Sehun forced everyone to record a video message for the birthday boy. He also gave his favorite hyung a couple strip of band-aids, cotton pads, and a cheap pair of gloves from the mini mart in the campus. Yelled to everyone who’d laughed, “It’s the thought that counts!” but it seems not much thought was given in the first place. But Chanyeol just laughed at it anyway, just like he did when Kyungsoo handed him the stuffed giraffe, which, in contrary, was thought out for.

Because Chanyeol _is_ Kyungsoo’s life-sized, human-formed giraffe.

Chanyeol chuckles, drawly secondary to intoxication. "That's very . . . ideal, Kyungsoo." He looks up, for the first time tonight looking at Kyungsoo proper. There's something about Park Chanyeol looking at him like that, because truth is they don't do it often. Someone between them is bound to tear their eyes away within seconds. Kyungsoo doesn't get Chanyeol sometimes. For all the times he claims Kyungsoo to be his best friend, there are times when his actions contradict his words, times when Chanyeol seems uncomfortable with him.

Chanyeol is still looking at him, but Kyungsoo is not sure if he's really seeing. How much of Chanyeol, how much of alcohol is in that gaze?

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Kyungsoo says. He isn’t much of a talker. Doesn’t always say the right thing. But if a friend is in need he will try to find the right words to console. Especially if it’s the truth. “You’re the varsity’s point guard. The ace. MVP high school state championship. Decent CGPA to get scholarships coming. You know you could be anything you want if you set your mind to it. You will always have a place to go.”

“But it’s hard to go pro. I didn’t get drafted for the KBL rookie draft in the last two years, and I don’t think it’s gonna change this year. There are so many people out there who are better than me.”

“Gotta tell you the truth, buddy, I won’t pretend like I had a clue on how basketball industry works. You’re good at what you do. I mean, I look at you play and I think “Great form!” – whatever that means, but it sounds cool – but I guess you’re right. Someone is always gonna be better. But for what it’s worth, you’re good, really good. I believe in you. And it’s not like you don’t have your CGPA to back you up.” Kyungsoo snickers in his pause, abashed. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about not having decent pointers to back me up should things don’t go my way.”

“Don’t be silly,” Chanyeol says promptly, like it’s always in the back his mind that things are always going to be okay for Do Kyungsoo. Then he nods, exhales visibly. A moment of reflection. “Sorry, that was a stupid train of thought. It’s the booze talking.”

“No, no. I mean, it is stupid, but it’s okay to talk about it, you know that right? I mean, if you had doubts, I’d rather you let me talk you out of it instead of keep it to yourself.” Kyungsoo is saying all these things, but is Chanyeol even _listening_? He’s probably less than 70% sober.

"Would you drop out?" Chanyeol asks, eyes still fixed at Kyungsoo. "Say, if the opportunity came, you got to debut on national TV or movies, I don’t know, would you, school’s best actor as Jongdae put it,” this part is said a little bit too theatrically, almost mocking, "want to leave? Take a year off at least?"

"Do you think I would do it?" Kyungsoo retorts. If Chanyeol is fully sober perhaps he will have heard the challenge in Kyungsoo's tone.

"I've seen people left with and for less."

"Would you?"

"Answer the goddamn question for once, Kyungsoo."

"Why are you getting mad at me?"

"Again, with the question?"

"Would you want me to stay?"

"Again- wait, what?"

"Answer the goddamn question for once, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol tries to blink away his lack of sobriety, as if it's something possible. "Don't put that on me," he warns. "I'm like half-drunk I shouldn't be held responsible for that."

"For what?"

"I don't want you to wake up one day and resent me that you didn't leave because I wanted you stay."

Kyungsoo can't help but laugh despite himself. "God, Chanyeol, for someone who claims to be half drunk you sure talk a lot more sense than the sober."

Then Chanyeol smiles at him, his white teeth blinding. Kyungsoo hasn’t seen the perfect line of teeth all day. The smile looks a little goofy on his face, reddened ears sticking out, ashy grey hair wild and unkempt, but Chanyeol is smiling silly with a misplaced sense of pride that comes from five (six?) cans of beers and Kyungsoo can't think of a reason not to smile back, feels the muscles of his face pulling his mouth into the shape of the heart, as people like to tell him. Feels something warm and fuzzy bubbling inside his gut, as clichéd as it sounds.

In short seconds of their shared smile, there's something about Chanyeol's now. Something rueful about the looks in his eyes. Something sad about the curl of those lips. As if between those microseconds, something snaps in his head, reminding of him something unfortunate.

Kyungsoo feels his own smile waver as Chanyeol inches closer, now sitting right in front of him, his face opposite of Kyungsoo's. He's slouching really badly, his jaw resting on top of his kneecaps.

"Sometimes it gets too much, the heart-shaped thing your mouth does," Chanyeol says, tender voice and hushed tone, and Kyungsoo is listening to him, but can't quite make sense of the words.

"Sometimes I wanna do this," Chanyeol is saying, almost whispering now, and the tip of his index, the one previously tracing the edge of the can, is doing the same thing to the bow of Kyungsoo's lower lip. "Sometimes I really wanna do this," he's thumbing the flesh of the upper lip, and Kyungsoo is not sure he's even breathing right now.

Glazed, half-lidded eyes are staring at Kyungsoo's parted lips, Chanyeol’s thumb gently caressing the curve of lips at the philtrum, like he's fascinated by the indentation, as if he doesn't possess similar fullness.

"Sometimes," Chanyeol's eyes are flitting back and forth between his lips and eyes, and is it bad, Kyungsoo thinks to himself – knowing Chanyeol is at some degree inebriated – that he, as the sober one, is allowing this to happen, because between Jongin and Sehun’s shared look, Sehun's face before the door was closing, and now - right at this moment in which Chanyeol is this close to him - he finally understands.

They were looking out for him he realizes, but even as he's feeling a sense of impending doom as Chanyeol leans in, he doesn't want to be protected. Is it bad, Kyungsoo thinks again, as Chanyeol is closing the distance between their lips, that he's licking his, half habit and half invitation? Invitation, to someone whose self-control and judgement are, at some degrees, impaired?

It's a peck, rather than an actual kissing; it's lips slotted against another pair. Despite the nervous energy that was bubbling the kiss falls short in comparison, the snug touch of Chanyeol's lips against his too fleeting. But it's Chanyeol's, and Kyungsoo's heart fails to assess the kiss objectively like his brain does - it just knows to hammer against the rib of his chest like he's got the best kiss of his life.

He would have loved to describe what Chanyeol personally tastes like, romanticize the nuance if he were to look back at this moment years from now. Truth is Chanyeol's breath smells of cheap hypermarket beer, and it doesn't take a clinical trial to conclude that his mouth tastes the same.

But damn if Kyungsoo wouldn’t file this kiss neatly in the back of his mind labeled with 'PRECIOUS' in pastel blue tag, convenient for future revisiting.

Kyungsoo is opening his eyes before he realizes he has had them closed, almost cross eyed from having to look at Chanyeol this close, face still hovering over his. It's damning, the way Chanyeol's breath intimately grazes his skin, his lips lingering over Kyungsoo’s slack mouth.

Chanyeol whispers, with a lack of clarity in his eyes, "Sometimes I really wanna do that." And Kyungsoo thinks, _fuck_.

***

Honest to God, he doesn't know what to expect when he gets back home after a long day of classes and practice for the annual stage play, doesn't know what's waiting for him back at the dorm. After the kiss, the peck, or whatever it was they did, Chanyeol stood up and walked towards Kyungsoo's bed as if it was his own. Then he plopped himself on the bedside, staring at Kyungsoo as if challenging, to stop him, to nag him to sleep in his own bed. In his daze Kyungsoo could only stare back. If he was in his right mind he would probably have done what was expected of him, but he wasn't, and Chanyeol made himself comfortable lying down instead. "C’mere,” Chanyeol called, patting the space next to him, and Kyungsoo went to him like he was in command.

Sleep was hard to come by last night, and Chanyeol didn't even hold him or anything, just slept like a log throughout the night in the tiny confinement of Kyungsoo’s bed, but if Chanyeol asked of him, he would do it all over again, sore muscles or whatnot.

But then comes the million dollar question, how much of Chanyeol, how much of alcohol was responsible for last night?

It's half past ten when he gets back, and the dorm is quieter than usual. Sehun comes down rushing from upstairs and grabs his arm before he could walk past. "Did something happen last night?" Sehun asks. He sounds curious, naively so.

Kyungsoo feels blood draining from his face. "Why would you ask that?"

"Jongin told me. He saw Chanyeol hyung sleeping on your bed this morning."

"God forbid Chanyeol sleeps in a roommate’s bed?"

Sehun regards him with that look again, the one that makes him feel a little nauseous. "You’re right," he finally says, pulling Kyungsoo into a quick half-hug. "I'm sorry, hyung. I'm just worried, is all. Chanyeol hasn't come back home since then, didn’t reply to my texts, and he always replies! But it's probably nothing."

It's nothing, Kyungsoo tells himself. Chanyeol does that sometimes. Nobody owes anyone their whereabouts in this dorm.

"Did anyone else text him?"

Speak of the devil, the main door clicks open and Chanyeol walks in. He looks at them, says hi, and asks if they've eaten. Nothing unusual and Kyungsoo is relieved.

"Do you want me to fix you guys anything? Ramen?" Park Chanyeol and his obsession with feeding people.

"It's midnight, hyung," Sehun scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He pulls Chanyeol's arm as the older walks by. "Where did you go?" There's an unmistakable whine in Sehun’s question.

Sehun is lucky, Kyungsoo thinks, not so much because he can get away with pretty much anything and everything since he's the youngest in their group of friends, but because he's able to express his concerns, his worries, his feelings, himself, as he wishes to his hyungs, because he's the youngest.

Just like that, Chanyeol's face breaks into a smile, hopelessly fond, the kind of fondness Chanyeol the hyung reserves for those who call him so, and then he drags Sehun by the neck to the kitchen.

"Why, did you miss me?" Kyungsoo hears Chanyeol ask. He sees Sehun shove Chanyeol's rib with his sharp elbow as Chanyeol drape his long arm along Sehun’s shoulder, his pleasant laughter echoing.

And just like that, a horrible realization sets in, dawning upon him, that there's not a flash of recognition, or acknowledgment, in Chanyeol's face to whatever happened last night.

***

Kyungsoo thinks about it, ponders on it, obsesses over it.

Chanyeol didn't seem wasted the other night. Under influence, sure. Tipsy, yes. But there was barely a slur in his speech. He didn't struggle to move or walk, made it to Kyungsoo's bed without careening. Is it possible for someone to have a complete memory blackout in that condition?

All of these questions, Kyungsoo realizes, are nothing more than his petty attempt to drown the little voice in his head nagging him, that being the one with a clearer mind he shouldn't have let it happen.

It's been days since the night and Chanyeol still acts like nothing happened, forcing Kyungsoo to come to the conclusion that, to Chanyeol, truly nothing has happened.

It finally registers in his head that Chanyeol is never going to play his part of sharing the _look_ \- that of stolen kisses and private glances, a secret affair - when Kyungsoo seeks him out, picks him out in the middle of the crowd of eleven, ten, nine, eight rowdy boys, or hundreds other people, or when they're alone.

Chanyeol treats him like he always does, and in a way, Kyungsoo thinks it's a blessing. The hurt of being the only one who remembers is nothing compared to Chanyeol regretting it at all.

Until it happens again.

It's Saturday night. Junmyeon has summoned them all for his biweekly meeting (that sometimes turns to be monthly or weekly, or even bimonthly, it depends), and everyone is gathered in the living room. There's a variety of street food laid on the coffee table and the floor, ranging from seasoned fried chicken and spicy rice cakes, to blood sausage and pig feet. Cans of beer and bottles of soju scattered all over the place. Sehun and Jongin are the first ones out, not even drunk or anything, just overgrown children catching up on their 9-hour sleep. Well, mostly because they spent last night staying up playing LoL again, which is all they ever do when they’re home. Kyungsoo is not sure if Baekhyun is even drunk because the living room is kind of his room, so seeing him sleep on the couch is as natural as Baekhyun hitting the sack instead of passing out drunk. Jongdae is still trying to outdrink Minseok, which is as useless as a challenge could go, because if Chanyeol can handle his alcohol well, Minseok can make it look like water in his hand. Junmyeon is talking on the phone with Yixing who’s back home in China for a long weekend. He's smiling to himself, probably listening to Yixing's perpetual drawl when he speaks Korean that can easily be mistaken as aegyo, and Junmyeon loves it when his dongsaengs do that. It’s a sunbae/hyung power trip thing. Probably.

Chanyeol, well, he's sitting at the end of the couch on which Baekhyun is sleeping, the latter's legs over his thighs, Chanyeol's hands casually on Baekhyun's shins. Casual as the surreptitious glances Kyungsoo has been throwing in his direction all night fail to be.

Kyungsoo doesn't think of himself that much of a drinker, but he does think his tolerance is pretty high for someone his size. Certainly not a lightweight. He and Chanyeol have once tried to outdrink each other - well, it was mostly Chanyeol trying to outdrink him - but the hypothesis was proven true. Chanyeol was about as drunk as he was when Jongdae had to step in.

Chanyeol will fight to tell his version of the story, will try to one up his sobriety, even if Jongdae will correct him every time.

Chanyeol catches Kyungsoo look at him, flashes a tipsy smile, and then he eggs on Jongdae to down another shot of soju. It's almost like he wants to see Jongdae crash; Kyungsoo won't put him past that. Minseok laughs when Jongdae screeches after bolting down the shot. Just after Minseok does the same, Jongdae ungraciously plops on the table, conked out. Junmyeon places a hand over the phone to cover his heaving a sigh, the disapproval in his eyes made clear. Minseok throws up his hands in defeat, his smile implike. "His liver is crying right now but he's gonna be okay,” Minseok assures.

Junmyeon bids a hasty goodbye to Yixing before yelling to Minseok. "Ah, hyung!"

Minseok laughs a hearty laughter as he proceeds to envelop Junmyeon in an apologetic hug. Junmyeon tries to be adamant in his irritation, to no avail. Somehow, Minseok shoves him towards Jongdae to bring the guy to bed.

The living room is quiet saves the sound of Baekhyun snoring softly.

Kyungsoo wishes he could say the silence was companionable but it is not. Chanyeol is staring at the muted TV, his eyes blinking sluggishly.

"You should go to sleep too," Kyungsoo finally says as he gets up to retire.

"I'll fall asleep halfway, I'm too drunk and sleepy to make it to bed."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "The hyperbole." He walks towards him and holds out a hand. "Come on, I'll help you."

Chanyeol looks up and looks down at Baekhyun whose legs are still in his lap, as if to say, "What about him?" Kyungsoo certainly doesn't feel a sliver of something pricking at his heart.

"He's a heavy sleeper, come on."

Even in his tipsiness, Chanyeol is able to extricate himself from the couch, gingerly lifting Baekhyun’s legs off of his lap. Baekhyun lets out his usual going-to-sleep whine-mantra as he stirs in his sleep for a few seconds before falling back into slumber. Chanyeol regards him fondly as he grins stupidly, more sottish than anything else. "He's an actual puppy,” he coos.

"You're an actual puppy," Kyungsoo grumbles with a little heat that surprises even himself.

"Am I a puppy or a giraffe, Kyungsoo?" Chanyeol drapes half of his wingspan over the narrow shoulder as Kyungsoo holds his waist, leading the taller to their room. Kyungsoo feels pleasantly engulfed, but it must be the buzz of the alcohol speaking.

"I thought you said I'm a giraffe," Chanyeol slurs when Kyungsoo doesn't answer him.

Kyungsoo smiles despite himself. Chanyeol's weight is pressing onto his side and shoulders but Kyungsoo can't find it in himself to be bothered. "Yes, Chanyeol, you're a giraffe."

"Then am I a puppy or a giraffe?" Chanyeol is straight up whining now. If Kyungsoo were the type, he would have totally recorded it for blackmail material should the need arise in the future.

"You're annoying."

And Chanyeol laughs like he agrees. Kyungsoo leads them towards Chanyeol's bunk bed but finds himself pulled to the other side where his bed is.

Chanyeol dives onto the single bed with a loud thunk, and then his hands find their way to rub his head. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Kyungsoo, I broke my skull, I'm dying, please tell my mom I love her. Ouch!”

Despite being aware of Chanyeol’s exaggeration, Kyungsoo finds himself cradling Chanyeol's head, rubbing against the scalp, soothing him. Chanyeol has stopped with the ouch, pliant in Kyungsoo's arms. It's nice and quiet and warm. For someone who gets cold so easily, Chanyeol's person is warm. Kyungsoo can feel Chanyeol’s stare burning through him, and so he looks down to meet the stare. In Chanyeol’s eyes there are questions that none of them are about to have answers for anytime soon.

And then it happens again.

Chanyeol hoists himself up to meet Kyungsoo's lips. Then they're kissing.

This time it's a proper kiss. This time Chanyeol is holding the back of Kyungsoo's neck as he presses upwards. This time Chanyeol is kissing like he means it.

Since the day they first kissed, many nights ago, Kyungsoo has been thinking what it would feel like to have Chanyeol kiss him proper. It's not something he constantly thinks about, but sometimes when Chanyeol talks Kyungsoo’s eyes would drift to the plush moving lips, and he’s wondered if Chanyeol kisses like he laughs – a full body response, whereby limbs become animated and balance is lost and someone is left breathless.

It’s true. It’s a full body response. Limbs become animated, oh hell, they do. Chanyeol’s hands are all over Kyungsoo’s torso. His legs are pulling Kyungsoo in by the back of his thighs to the length of his own body. Balance is lost; a minute ago Chanyeol was the one lying down, but right now, it’s Kyungsoo. They’re panting like they have just finished a sprint race.

That Chanyeol is an ardent kisser as he is a laugher, it’s true.

Then the kissing stops when Chanyeol pulls away. It feels abrupt. Like Chanyeol was having second thoughts about the whole thing and decided to pull a sudden break. Was he the one giving the vibe instead? Why is Chanyeol not kissing him?

Chanyeol isn’t that much of a snuggler; so, it surprises Kyungsoo a little when he scoots closer and slots himself against Kyungsoo, the top of his head tucked under Kyungsoo’s chin, making himself comically small. Kyungsoo would have smiled in amusement if he isn’t busy worrying he messed up The Whole Thing.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kyungsoo asks in a quiet whisper. In this proximity, Chanyeol could probably hear the blood rushing through his veins.

Chanyeol still is not looking at him, and Kyungsoo feels his heart drop. But then he slides an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist and pulls him in closer and Kyungsoo’s stomach does a flip flop.

“Best I ever had,” Chanyeol answers in a drunken drawl. It’s probably the booze, again, doing the talking, but Kyungsoo sleeps with the biggest smile lingering on his face, and Chanyeol doesn’t have to know that.

***

 

Kyungsoo wakes up with a mild headache the next morning. There’s a bottle of Advil and a glass of water sitting on the night stand, but Chanyeol is nowhere in sight. He downs a tablet of the painkiller with a slug of water, and gets up to sit on the bedside. Holds his head in his palms, elbows resting on the knees.

_Does he even remember?_

They actually, finally, made out and they just had to be drunk. _Again._ Kyungsoo swears off alcohol for at least two weeks. He’d like to be sober if they ever did it again.

“Hyung?”

Kyungsoo looks up to see Jongin walk towards. He didn’t even notice Jongin open the door.

“You alright?” Jongin sits beside him, a hand on his shoulders.

Kyungsoo offers a wan smile. “Just a bit hungover.”

“You didn’t even drink that much.”

“And you know this how? You fell asleep half an hour into our meet-up.”

Jongin snorts in defeat. His fingers are messaging Kyungsoo’s head; Kyungsoo hums appreciatively. There’s something Jongin is trying to say, about which Kyungsoo has an idea. Kyungsoo lets Jongin pace himself because truth is, he’s dreading it. He doesn’t know since when Sehun and Jongin knew about it, only knows they did before he realized it himself.

It doesn’t take long.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jongin tilts his head to search for Kyungsoo’s eyes. Kyungsoo meets his inquisitive stare. Hates to see the concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kyungsoo can at least try to pretend, right?

“Hyung.”

Kyungsoo lets out a heavy sigh. Jongin has always been perceptive, Kyungsoo doesn’t know who he’s trying to fool.

“Where’s he?” Kyungsoo finally says. There’s defeat in his tone. It’s scary because he’s not telling Jongin anything, but how much of an acknowledgement is in that question?

“Class. I really gotta learn how to beat hangovers as quickly as he does before you seniors graduate.”

It’s Advil, and crazy high metabolism – Kyungsoo would have told Jongin if he had the mind.

“Should I be worried, hyung?” There’s pure concern in Jongin’s face, Kyungsoo can’t help but smile to reassure. He never likes to make people worry.

“You’re a good friend, Jongin,” he says instead.

“Okay,” Jongin sighs the long suffering sigh. He’s never one for a dramatic flair, but he has his moments. “I should definitely be worried,” he adds with a cheeky smile.

And just like that, Kyungsoo feels better than he did when he woke up.

***

 

From Kyungsoo:  
_Have you eaten?_

From Chanyeol:  
_Eating with mom, why?_

From Kyungsoo:  
_Say hi for me._

From Chanyeol:  
_She’s asking when are you coming here_

From Kyungsoo:  
_I don’t know. Her son never invites me home anymore._

From Chanyeol:  
_Mom is not gonna see that text or she will disown me_

From Chanyeol:  
_I think she loves you more than me_

From Chanyeol:  
_Yep_

From Chanyeol:  
_Come this weekend, she saw the text_

From Chanyeol:  
_If you’re free_

From Kyungsoo:  
_I am._

From Chanyeol: _  
Ok see you later_

 

Kyungsoo might have lied a little. He’s not that free. He’s got dialogues to remember and rehearse, final year thesis to finish – 24 hours a day isn’t enough these days. But he hasn’t been to Chanyeol’s house since, well, two semesters ago.

He remembers the first time Chanyeol invited him home. Only a few months after the first subway ride together to the takoyaki place in Apgujeong. First year of college, long weekend in the winter. It was bitterly cold outside even though it hadn’t started snowing. They weren’t even roommates yet at the time. Professor Kim of Sociology 101 was passionately telling the class about his adventure in Cambodia (that one time in 1999, but the way he was raving about it one would think it was for more than a decade) when Chanyeol just turned to him and whispered, “I miss mom’s kimchi spaghetti. Do you want to come with this weekend?”

Kyungsoo would say the invitation came out of nowhere, but it probably had something to do with the fact that Kyungsoo just told him last week that he was going to stay back at the dorm alone.

Quite a pair, the two of you, Jongdae has once remarked. He was probably right. Superficially, it was unlikely that they came to be best friends. Kyungsoo was being recruited by the drama club, Chanyeol making first line for the varsity. They were just classmates with clashing personalities and distinctive passions, but they got along quicker than one would have imagined. As it turns out they do have a lot in common, music being chief among them.

At the stage practicing the play, it was easy not to think of what happened. It doesn’t sit right with him to call acting a distraction – he respects the play too much despite it being a mere university stage – but if by pouring his heart out into it he gets to stop thinking about kissing a roommate, a best friend, then a distraction it is.

It was a little over six when Jongdae, the drama club president, dismisses the practice. Then he drags Kyungsoo along to the court, apparently to assess how the team fares this close to tournament. As if he was in the position to be a critic. But Kyungsoo indulges him anyway, mostly because he wants to see Chanyeol play. It’s always a delight to see him work around the court, striving the role of the playmaker, setting up plays, making the calls from where he is running and dribbling. So in his element, it’s honestly, uh – now that he knows Chanyeol in ways more intimate than he ever did in the past three years – a turn on. He’s proud, always, that his best friend is the backbone of the varsity team, but this time, he feels something tingles in his spine. It’s different to see someone you . . . have _something_ with . . . so competent in something they do. Other than sucking your face, obviously.

Albeit drunkenly.

The coach blows the final whistle, gives an enthusiastic closing pep talk, and then the guys are bumping each other’s sweaty arms and shoulders, clasping hands in the standard bro-esque shake. Only then does Chanyeol notice them sitting on the bleachers. He waves at them excitedly, a trademark wide grin on his sweaty face. Lord, he’s so sweaty. Understandably. Guy has just spent at least three hours on the court. Kyungsoo wills his mind to stop thinking about Chanyeol’s state of sweatiness.

From the floor, Chanyeol climbs two seats at a time and then perches on the seat in front of them, patting a small towel on his sweaty face. “How was it?” he asks between breaths, tongue lolling like a puppy panting. Kyungsoo wants to simultaneously laugh at him and poke his forehead. He settles for a smile that feels a little bit too fond.

“It was great! You looked great out there. Great form.” Kyungsoo tries to sound like he’s able to opine with objective, unfortunately he’s just said the word ‘great’ three times in a row. He really should stop thinking about Chanyeol being sweaty.

Chanyeol laughs, head thrown back. Jongdae, too, breaks into an amused laughter, and then says, “You know he was asking about our practice, right?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”Chanyeol mocks. Kyungsoo just wants to smack that smug smirk off of his pretty face. Preferably with his lips.

“Thanks, though. Feeling pretty great today! You guys gonna wait for me for dinner, though, right? I’m gonna hit the shower, gimme like five minutes, tops.” Chanyeol runs towards the exit near which is the male locker room, not giving Kyungsoo and Jongdae the chance to protest or say no. Not that any of them was planning to.

Everyone in the indoor gym has dispersed save for Kyungsoo and Jongdae. Jongdae’s thumbing furiously on the screen of his phone, probably arguing with Baekhyun about their dinner arrangement, and Kyungsoo really needs to stop thinking about Chanyeol and shower in one sentence. He’s seen the guy naked! Not a big deal! Nothing impressive! Well, Chanyeol is relatively well-endowed down south, but goddamn—

“You’re thinking about him in the shower, aren’t you?” Jongdae asks, out of the blue, and Kyungsoo is considering if he could just roll down the bleachers and play dead on the floor, like what he would do if Jongdae was a bear. Sadly, Jongdae is not a bear, and if Kyungsoo tried to play dead on him he would find the closest AED and resuscitate Kyungsoo until he got his answer.

Kyungsoo huffs instead, “No, I wasn’t.” Too belatedly to act nonchalant.

“Sure, hun,” Jongdae chuckles at the phone. “What’s up with you two, anyways?”

Kyungsoo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Is it too late to fish his phone out of the pocket and pretend he, too, has got something to be occupied with? Something more important than Jongdae interrogating him? Should he back Baekhyun up in their Kakao Talk chatroom?

“What do you mean?” Kyungsoo might have sounded a bit too defensive to claim innocence.

“I don’t know. Something seems . . . different.”

“Different how?”

“Different, like someone grew a pair and did something.”

“Did Jongin tell you?”

“He didn’t, but now I know for sure something is up.”

When Kyungsoo rotates his head towards Jongdae, the latter has a cheeky, toothy grin plastered on his face, waiting in glee almost.

Truth is, Kyungsoo isn’t quite sure how to maneuver the conversation. Jongdae has known Chanyeol longer than any of them do. Before college, before Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, there was a trio of Jongdae/Chanyeol/Baekhyun in a high school in the middle of Seoul. There was also a trio of Chanyeol/Jino/Jongdae in middle school, but that’s another story. If anything happens and something changes, Kyungsoo knows for a fact Jongdae will not spare a second to hesitate to take Chanyeol’s side. If Kyungsoo and Chanyeol tried – big capital if – and didn’t work out, Kyungsoo would lose a best friend and the best friends of said best friend, because Chanyeol has to be extra and have like ten best friends, minimum, while Kyungsoo struggles to keep one.

“How come y’all knew these things before I did?” Kyungsoo grumbles, defeated.

Edges of Jongdae’s lips curled into a kind smile. He replies, “I guess this is the classic case of everyone can see it but you two, you know. So, did you tell him?”

Kyungsoo feels his heart drop heavy at Jongdae’s revelation. He tries not to let the effect of it appear too visibly, and so he asks instead, “Tell him what?”

“That you like him?”

“I do?” Kyungsoo tries so very hard for the nonchalance, has got to, like this is all something that doesn’t make him feel like he should run to somewhere far, someplace in which none of the folks knows a thing about what he may possibly be feeling for a dear friend. He hasn’t sorted his feelings out, let alone named it, but apparently people around him, or at least Jongdae, already has a label for it.

“Oh, stop playing dumb,” Jongdae insists with a hint of exasperation. Like Kyungsoo is making his life hard instead of the other way around. “It’s me, Kyungsoo. You know you can tell me anything.”

That much, is true. Kyungsoo trusts Jongdae, knows he can tell him anything. Baekhyun, on the other hand . . . just thinking about it makes him shudder. Baekhyun, too, is a good friend, but damn if he isn’t the worst secret keeper. Jino is the best of the lot in the matter, but he’s pursuing his dream at the maritime university in Busan so it’s not like Kyungsoo can just go up to him and _talk._ The fact doesn’t make him any less reluctant to share. If he refuses to talk about it, never acknowledges it, certainly Kyungsoo will have a chance to pretend there’s no such thing as feelings being buried six feet under if he and Chanyeol remain friends? Should this come to a premature end, he would like for his dignity to remain intact, whatever the circumstances.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t know. I didn’t realize I like him _like that_ until recently. I don’t even know if he likes me,” Kyungsoo tells anyway. Apparently his sense of self-preservation has been unarmed around Jongdae too. He waits for a laugh, any sound of amusement, to escape from Jongdae’s mouth, but it never comes. He turns around only to have Jongdae smile warmly at him. Kyungsoo has a suspicion Jongdae has been waiting to have this talk with him for a long time.

“Kyungsoo, my dear friend, dudes don’t give other dudes matching rings, okay? Unless it’s like purity rings,” he says derisively, “and I don’t know about you, but I went to middle and high school with Chanyeol and I know for a fact that he’s not eligible to wear a goddamned purity ring.”

“He’s not?”

“Is anyone?! Also, not the point!” Jongdae looks close to pulling his hair in frustration, Kyungsoo has to smother a smile.

“My point is,” Jongdae continues urgently, “dudes don’t give other dudes matching rings. Certainly not soundwave rings inscribed with a personal message promising forever and more.”

“Our rings don’t say anything about forever,” Kyungsoo contends stubbornly; he doesn’t even know what’s inscribed on the rings himself. Fiddling with the ring on his index, he wonders. Chanyeol has never told anyone. At this point, he’s just messing with Jongdae; it’s fun to rile him up like this.

“Hah! _Our_ rings!” Jongdae singsongs childishly, exaggeratedly. “Are you listening to yourself, Kyungsoo? So, what, are you like, boyfriends now? Who have your _own couple_ rings?”

Kyungsoo stands up from the wooden seat and stretches out. It feels like it’s been more than fifteen minutes, and Chanyeol hasn’t come back. He plans to pick him up from the locker room, gestures to Jongdae his intention. Jongdae trails after him quickly without protest.

“No, not really.” _Not yet_. Kyungsoo skips down the step with a little bounce, something warm, like, hope, blossoming in his chest traitorously. He turns around, flashes a giddy grin, skips with caution backwards, and then says, “But it sure felt like it when we kissed.”

“YOU DID WHAT NOW?” Jongdae shouts, excitedly scandalized, and Kyungsoo laughs and laughs until his tummy aches, his head wrestled under Jongdae’s armpit, Jongdae terrorizing Kyungsoo into giving him details.

 

***

Kyungsoo has kissed a grand total of five people in his life, so it’s not like he has plenty of notes to compare, but damn if Chanyeol isn’t the best ever.

They have just kissed. Again. This time sober. Well, on Kyungsoo’s part at least. Chanyeol had a drink off with his dad last night, so he was tipsy by the end of supper with the family. It started with Yura spilling to Kyungsoo an anecdote of Chanyeol puking over one sneaked shot of soju during middle school that got him really embarrassed and tried to make it up by dragging his dad into it. His old man laughed and relented despite Chanyeol’s mom shaking her head disapprovingly. “Men in this house don’t listen to me,” Chanyeol’s mom complained despite the tender smile on her face. “Except for you, of course. You should come by more often.”

Chanyeol did win, and Kyungsoo suspects it’s a lot to do with his dad giving in than Chanyeol’s actual alcohol tolerance being superior to his old man. Kyungsoo had to carry Chanyeol to his room and tucked him under the covers, and when he did the same, Chanyeol scooted close and wrapped himself around Kyungsoo, like it was normal, like it was something Chanyeol and Kyungsoo did every night, like they were _something._

Then they kissed. Chanyeol kissed him with a certain urgency, soju breath and what not, and Kyungsoo kissed back with equal fervor. “I missed you,” Chanyeol murmured between sloppy kisses, as if they hadn’t been spending their weekend together. “I waited all week for this,” Chanyeol whispered hotly along his jaw, and Kyungsoo was too caught up in the moment to comprehend, but they were making out in Chanyeol’s double bed in his childhood room, and Kyungsoo genuinely felt like they were a sure thing.

It’s the morning after, and Chanyeol is snoring softly behind his back, his breath tickling on Kyungsoo’s nape, an arm secured around Kyungsoo’s ribs. Gingerly, Kyungsoo moves up a hand to touch his lips, the phantom of Chanyeol’s kiss still lingering. His bladder is crying for release, but he’s scared the rustle will rouse Chanyeol from his sleep, and then Chanyeol will be too sober to act like they’re people who have been exchanging saliva and body heat. The spell will be broken, and Kyungsoo will be left alone to wonder what a guy has got to do to have Chanyeol kiss him autonomously, when he is in full control of his agency.

For now he just wants to bask in the feel of Chanyeol along his back.

Kyungsoo recognizes the exact moment when Chanyeol wakes up. He stirs, goes frigid as he realizes the position they are in. Then he carefully lifts his hand from Kyungsoo and rolls around onto his back. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what that means. Or more accurately, doesn’t want to digest what Chanyeol’s refusing to address _them_ may mean. He’s not a coward. If Chanyeol is not ready, then he doesn’t want to ambush. He’s not a coward, he chants to himself. If Chanyeol needs time, then Kyungsoo will give him.

After some tossing and grumbling, which Kyungsoo suspects is hangover-induced, the mattress dips in and then Chanyeol is dragging his feet towards the door with a towel slung over his shoulder, his shirtless retreating back the last thing Kyungsoo sees before he squeezes his eyelids close.

He sits up and waits for Chanyeol to come back. They’re supposed to go to Chanyeol’s dad billiard place not far from here. Chanyeol returns from the bathroom not long after. He opens the door without so much of a knock, walks in with the towel hung low around his hips, and Kyungsoo quickly tears his eyes away from the view. One of Chanyeol’s walls could use a new color, four off-white walls seems so bland and generic. Maybe black on one of those, or grey, maybe –

Kyungso turns back to Chanyeol, only to see his eyes rivet past Kyungsoo’s shoulder – or is it on Kyungsoo’s shoulder? – a pained expression on Chanyeol’s face. Then Chanyeol clears his throat and busies himself with drying his hair. “No one in the toilet?” Kyungsoo asks, reaching for the towel on the drying rack before making a beeline to the bathroom to answer the call of nature. Chanyeol doesn’t get to reply.

After he’s done peeing, Kyungsoo goes to stand in front of the bathroom mirror to brush his teeth only to belatedly realize what Chanyeol was staring at. _Oh._ Kyungsoo promptly brings a hand to touch where the shoulder meets the neck, the bump and sting of slightly bruised skin, the reddish-purplish mark a stark contrast against his pale, narrow shoulder.

 

***

It’s considerably warm outside for early spring, but Kyungsoo is tucked in Chanyeol’s black turtle neck, for obvious reasons. It hangs loose on him, but it’s better than wearing the loose-necked sweater-shirt he’s brought for change. At least no hickey is up for public exhibition even if he’s a little warm inside the thing. Kyungsoo expects Chanyeol to tease, mock him when he sees Kyungsoo awkwardly walk out of the room in his cloth, but all that happens is the dejavu of Chanyeol’s constipated face seeing love bites inflicted by himself. Kyungsoo tries not to think about what it means.

They’re both mediocre pool players, Kyungsoo thinks, but despite Kyungsoo winning over Chanyeol almost every time, Chanyeol is the one who spices up the games with fancy trick shots. He loves showing it off to Kyungsoo, childish, lop-sided grin on his face every time he makes the shot. He’s a lot like a child in that sense, sometimes.

Chanyeol’s a carbon copy of his mom, but unlike her, Chanyeol is a lot like his dad, more reserved in his display of affection despite the sunny disposition. Chanyeol’s mom loves having him around, she lets her know as much by saying and showing it. Meanwhile, Chanyeol . . . he’s a bit special in his ways of showing it.

They have dinner with Chanyeol’s mom at her restaurant, help her close the place. She treats Kyungsoo like his mother does, and he truly loves being around the Park family.

Just like it is with Jongdae, Jino, Baekhyun, and each of their mutual friend, he has to worry if he and Chanyeol don’t work out, he will not have this anymore. There’s hope to befriending the guys, but there’s absolutely none to being part of this family should they part ways. And he will terribly miss them.

Kyungsoo doesn’t dwell on why the first thing that springs into his mind when he thinks of Chanyeol and him being an item is things are going to go badly between them.

That night no one is drunk or kissing, and they both fall asleep in the living room halfway through Return of the Jedi.

They go back early to the dorm on Sunday, immediately after breakfast with Chanyeol’s family. Chanyeol’s got his intensive training before the taper with the kickoff to prepare for, whereas Kyungsoo should stop pretending his thesis would finish writing itself. Chanyeol’s mom has packed them with two-week supply of side dishes, and half a dozen servings of kimchi spaghetti – bless her soul – so everyone at the dorm is assembled at the living room pigging out with little to none consideration to anyone still outside.

If anyone notices Chanyeol’s turtle neck on him, they don’t mention it.

***

It’s been a few busy weeks for everyone. With the KUBL kicking off next Sunday, Chanyeol is out on a weekend MT trip, the coach’s way to unwind the team this close to the game. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo gets himself busy with thesis and stage play. It’s their last project before graduating; therefore, Jongdae is, understandably, mildly twitchy about it. It’s good, it keeps Chanyeol out of his mind, but when it’s time for bed and he’s lying alone in the dark after a long day, he misses Chanyeol. When they were strictly friends, his missing Chanyeol was lumped together with missing other friends. Now, missing him is nothing of that sort; he feels it more acutely, physically.

The phone under his pillow buzzes, announcing an incoming text. He fishes it out, his lips stretching into a wide smile at the sight of the sender’s ID.

From Chanyeol:  
It’s boring, I forgot to bring my guitar

From Kyungsoo:  
Just go to sleep

From Chanyeol:  
You know I don’t sleep this early

From Kyungsoo:  
Yes, and it’s a habit you need to get rid of

From Chanyeol:  
Geez ok mom

From Kyungsoo:  
Your guitar is gonna be here when you get back

Kyungsoo drifts off to sleep waiting for Chanyeol’s reply. The next morning he wakes up to the text from him, saying, “It’d better.”

Unsurprisingly, the first thing Chanyeol does when he gets back a day later is strums his guitar and sings along to Radiohead’s Creep on his bunk bed. Kyungsoo greets him perfunctorily from where he is sitting at the study desk. He’s supposed to be studying, trying to read the same paragraph over and over again, but sentences have become merely a string of nonsensicalities when Chanyeol’s deep baritone is commanding his undivided attention just a few feet away. When Chanyeol sings of wanting someone to notice when he’s not around, Kyungsoo gives up pretending. He turns his chair around to Chanyeol’s direction and takes it all in. Chanyeol is slouching forward against the birch-colored acoustic instrument on his bedside, singing with a low-toned voice, his eyes closed, and Kyungsoo greedily takes it all in.

Kyungsoo has missed Chanyeol, and his presence is reminding Kyungsoo why.

“If the KBL is too stupid to draft you,” Kyungsoo says as Chanyeol wraps up his singing and is shifting to lie on his bed, “you could do that, too.”

There hears a dismissive snort from the bottom bunk. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Just something that came into mind when I heard you sing.” Kyungsoo smiles at Chanyeol whose face, which has been cynical, breaks into a grin, transparently pleased. He wants to kiss Chanyeol. Is it weird to ask if he could kiss him? Are they at the stage where it is totally okay to ask, “Hey, can we kiss?” Certainly they’re not at the stage where it’s a thing to kiss as he pleases?

Kyungsoo doesn’t ask. He goes back to his reading, Chanyeol dozing off to sleep not long after his head hits the pillow.

On Friday, Kyungsoo gets back to the dorm to Chanyeol curling on his bed, still in his basketball shorts. They barely see each other at the campus except for lunch time, and Kyungsoo has been staying back at the library to actually work on his thesis on days he’s not doing the play. Kyungsoo doesn’t have the mind to wake him up, if he’s sleeping in his own filth, judging by how strenuous his trainings have been.

Kyungsoo puts his backpack on the chair and sinks into his bed, careful not to wake Chanyeol up. There’s not much room left with Chanyeol taking more than half the space, but he makes do, lying on his side facing his best friend. It’s been a while since they were this close, Kyungsoo has forgotten how giddy it makes him feel.

Chanyeol isn’t in that deep of a slumber apparently, or maybe because he’s a light sleeper, he rouses from his sleep just a while after Kyungsoo lies down. Kyungsoo isn’t doing anything untowardly but he feels blood rush to his face, embarrassed of being caught staring at a sleeping Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol, on the other hand, smiles in his dopiness, and drowsily mumbles, “Missed you.” Then, he places a palm on Kyungsoo’s cheek, softly caressing a thumb over the creeping blush on the cheekbone, and kisses him on the lips. Just like that. Like it was _easy_. There’s Kyungsoo, who has been thinking about kissing Chanyeol just about a hundred times a week, who has never taken a chance to any of the thoughts , because he worries about the stupidest things like _stages of relationships_ , while Chanyeol just woke up from sleep and kissed him like one would a lover.

Kyungsoo has never thought of himself as an exceedingly bright student, but boy does he feel stupid at this moment. Not for too long, though, Chanyeol coaxing him out of reverie with his exceptional lip-locking technique.

This time, Kyungsoo stops himself from _thinking_ , and lets his hands pull Chanyeol’s head close to the nook between his neck and shoulder as Chanyeol drifts off back to sleep.

When Kyungsoo wakes up the next morning, alone, he finds a sticky note glued on his forehead, a distinctive scrawl on the yellow tiny sheet.

_‘Come before 8:30. Don’t be late, you’re my lucky charm.’_

It’s a quarter after seven, his phone clock tells him, and he scrambles off to wake everyone up so they will arrive on time. With a little speeding from Junmyeon, which doesn’t say much because guy loves his car and a little bit too upstanding a citizen, they’ve made it to the Olympic Gymnasium just ten minutes prior to the kick off. The ambience inside is so pumped it’s exhilarating, and also nausea-inducing, because a lot is riding on this game. First game is important, according to Chanyeol. If they win, it will be one hell of a booster for upcoming games this season. If they don’t, then they’re off to a bad start.

There’s Chanyeol sitting on the bench, a determined look on his face, looking at the coach who’s giving them one last pep talk before the whistle blows. As luck will have it, Chanyeol turns to where Kyungsoo is going down the stairs to sit nearer to the floor, and they lock eyes. Chanyeol beams at him; Kyungsoo likes to think it’s a smile of relief so palpable on his face. He mouths exaggeratedly, “All the best!” because shouting across the court is not an option.

The whistle is blown, Chanyeol soars the highest he can and taps the ball towards Minho, their shooting guard, and the ball is dribbled for a lay-up. First two points for the team. The cheer from crowd is unexpectedly deafening this early in the morning on a weekend. The team gets back to position in defense. A few dribbles later, Chanyeol steals the ball away from the opponent, and then executes a clean fast break, Minho already sprinting towards the three-point line to finish the shot. Another two points in. The opponent is quickly realizing they have to counterattack the aggressive offence, but everyone in the gym can see how formidable a combination is Chanyeol and his forwards, with Minho being one hell of a competent shooting guard. Their center, Taecyeon, standing at 185cm, may be shorter than the opponent’s counterpart, but he is not lacking technically. Their first-fives are solid, anyone with eyes can see that.

Four quarters later, with Chanyeol’s dramatic three-point shot at the last second still arching through the air, the last whistle is blown and their team wins. Chanyeol does an embarrassing celebratory dance for the shot he has just made, only for a while, because he is then ambushed by his team mates hurdling together circling him. The hype among the supporting crowd is crazy, even if it’s only the kick off. Heck, Kyungsoo, who knows next to nothing about basketball, is pumped for the team. This is great for their morale.

He doesn’t know what comes over him – perhaps it’s the adrenaline rush – only knows he needs to find Chanyeol. He runs towards the exit after informing the ones he’s carpooled with that he’s off to the toilet, and finds the locker room. Chanyeol must be there. Well, he should be. He waits at the entrance of the locker room, watching the players and reserves going in and out. He only ever talks to Minho in the team, and so he asks for Chanyeol’s whereabouts when he sees him. Minho replies vaguely, something about Chanyeol having something else to do with his group of friends in the audience. He fishes for his phone out of the pocket, types out hastily, impatiently, because Chanyeol can’t be celebrating with Baekhyun or Jongdae or anybody else right now. Not when he’s here. _Where are you,_ he presses ‘send’. Kyungsoo’s starting to get impatient. His plan, his stupid, crazy plan is starting to bite him back in the ass. He goes in to wait on the bench in front of the rows of lockers, despite the palpable smell of sweat and dirt. The last group of people walks out of the locker room and he almost gives up.

Then, he hears, “Kyungsoo?” He looks up from his phone to see the owner of the voice with which he’s intimately familiar, and there it is, the remnant of adrenaline rush, threatening to make its appearance in the form of a dramatic leap of faith, or in this case, a run into Chanyeol’s arms. Quite literally.

“I’ve been waiting for you– oofs!” Chanyeol laughs. Kyungsoo is on clutching on to his torso tight like a human-sized octopus, his arms on around Chanyeol’s neck, his thighs around the hips, and Chanyeol is laughing, holding Kyungsoo securely so he won’t fall, like he doesn’t weigh a thing.

It’s the stupidest thing Kyungsoo has ever done. It’s a dramatic leap alright. More lust and exhilaration than faith, for sure. Kyungsoo is doing something out of mind, character. Then he gets it. This is it, being in love. People say love makes people do the darndest things and Kyungsoo can’t think of a single reason he would otherwise have done this.

He holds Chanyeol’s face with both of his hands, mouth beaming so wide it hurts. He’s proud, so proud. He’s used to not thinking now, if he should ask permission to kiss; he’s already too far, too fast to slow down. So Kyungsoo kisses Chanyeol, with a newfound fever of excitement, and he kisses him urgently until Chanyeol’s back knocks into the lockers with a bang. The commotion doesn’t stop Chanyeol from licking into his mouth hungrily, like he’s high on a rush of hormones too. He gently bites Chanyeol’s lower lip before pulling back, and Chanyeol doesn’t spare a second to kiss along Kyungsoo’s jaw down to his neck, laving his tongue along the column of his throat, and Kyungsoo resolutely pushes himself off Chanyeol despite how good Chanyeol is making him feel. Now is about making Chanyeol feel good instead.

“Because you’ve won, and the winner gets a reward,” Kyungsoo whispers wetly into Chanyeol’s ear, and he feels embarrassed because he doesn’t have a sexy bone in him, but he doesn’t miss the way Chanyeol’s body responding with a shiver so it’s good for his morale. They’ve never done this before. They’ve never even done the hand stuff. He had a guy go down on him once two years ago in an alleyway behind a dinky club in Hongdae, but he’s never done anyone the favor, so this will probably be a bad attempt for reward-level quality blowjob. But the dazed look in Chanyeol’s face as Kyungsoo gets down on his knees is enough to keep him going, so he does. He fumbles with the strings of Chanyeol’s pants, forgetting that they’re _elastic_. He snorts at himself. When he looks up at Chanyeol, the taller does not seem amused at all. His stare is heavy, pupils blown the whites almost gone. Kyungsoo feels his own dick twitch in his jeans that feel at least a size tighter now.

Swiftly Kyungsoo pulls Chanyeol’s basketball shorts down, Chanyeol’s black brief hugging his narrow hip tight. His mouth waters at the sight. Experimentally he palms the bulge, licks and mouths through the fabric, Chanyeol’s hip arching at the touch, the door of the locker squeaking with the pressure. With all the sounds he’s eliciting from colliding with inanimate objects, Chanyeol himself is quiet, save for his heaving breath. “Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol finally lets out, a pleading tone in his voice. Kyungsoo feels a certain rush of power knowing he’s able to render someone so helpless with such simple ministrations.

He quits teasing, not that he knows much of it in the first place. With a generous amount of spit in his palm, he holds firmly the base of Chanyeol’s dick, which is not only quite endowed in size, but _also_ a grower – the unfairness in life – and proceeds to lick a stripe along the underside of the shaft, a swirl around the tip. Chanyeol tastes expectedly salty, because the guy has just spent four quarters running up and down the court, but it’s nothing unpleasant. The faint smell of their shared body wash still lingers on his skin. He’s warm and sweaty and absolutely delectable. The sound of muffled moans being forced out of his mouth are music to his ears. Kyungsoo dares himself to look up to see him. With his eyes half-lidded, slack-jawed, Chanyeol’s staring down at Kyungsoo, in reverence almost. One of Chanyeol’s hand is fixing Kyungsoo’s hair gently like he’s a dear thing, and it’s hilarious because it doesn’t fit in the dirty picture they’re making. The other hand scrabbling for purchase at one of the locker’s door. It doesn’t take much to bring Chanyeol off. Kyungsoo doesn’t try to take more than he can so he doesn’t choke, but all it takes is a few minutes of sloppy licking and swallowing and several strokes up and down from the base for Chanyeol to come. Chanyeol’s tried to warn him by pulling at his hair but Kyungsoo, being the first timer that he is, ignored it (because he assumed it was a kink, much to Chanyeol’s amusement) and had his palate and throat painted on instead. Certainly one of the ickiest tastes in his mouth, but he tries to swallows what’s already inside and wipes the spilled streaks of cum over his lips and chin. He probably looks downright _filthy_ , but Chanyeol is still looking at him like _that_ , like he’s a deity, so he must have done something right at least.

“Holy fuck,” Chanyeol utters disbelievingly, his back sliding down the locker, his knees giving out. They sit face to face, Chanyeol’s legs sprawling uselessly around Kyungsoo who is still kneeling, sitting on his heels, his hard-on abandoned.

“I think you broke my dick,” he croaks with a wicked grin. He looks spent and content, smiling stupidly as he thumbs over Kyungsoo’s red, well-used lips, coming down from the high of an orgasm. Then, he dives in to lick into Kyungsoo’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself, crawling on top of Kyungsoo, his hands wandering to help Kyungsoo get off instead.

If Kyungsoo thinks jumping Chanyeol is the stupidest thing he’s ever done, he hasn’t thought this one out yet, only realizes it when the words are blurted out of his mouth as he pulls back slightly. “I love you.” It’s so fucking stupid, with zero continuity to the public indecency they are committing, but he’s just bursting out with love and pride for Chanyeol that he says it. Has been thinking about it from the moment it has dawned on him until it’s become words. He loves Chanyeol. A blowjob may not be the best token of love, but Kyungsoo wouldn’t have done it for anyone else. “I love you,” he repeats, as if Chanyeol didn’t hear it the first time. “I want you, I want to do everything with you.”

It’s so fucking stupid because he should have been able to see the way Chanyeol’s face dropped the first time he blurted it out. It’s so fucking stupid because he tried to trick himself into thinking that Chanyeol’s alarmed face is of the pleased sorts.

“You’re my best friend, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol explains to Kyungsoo patronizingly like a disrespectful adult does a kindergartener, “of course I love you, too.”

It’s so fucking stupid, because all along, Kyungsoo is in this alone, and he’s only realizing it now.

“. . . best friend?”

“Ye-yeah?” There’s that classic Chanyeol’s nervous chuckle when he’s getting flustered.

“Park Chanyeol, I just _literally_ sucked your dick,” Kyungsoo says between grinding teeth, pushing Chanyeol off of him and backing away in fear of crushing Chanyeol’s balls with his balled fists in a fit of rage. “Do you do this with all of your best friends?” Kyungsoo feels sick, bile swimming in his throat as he imagines Chanyeol kissing Jongdae and Jino and Baekhyun and-

_“Do you?”_

“No!” Chanyeol shouts quickly, but Kyungsoo doesn’t get to feel relieved as he adds, “But it’s not like we’re boyfriends! I mean, you know, I’m not . . . I mean, it’s cool that you are, but I’m not, like, gay.”

The sound being emitted from his throat is too bitter to be called a laugh. Kyungsoo shakes his head in utter disbelief. He has convinced himself, worked out the courage, sucked a damn dick, and they’re best friends. Because Chanyeol had his penis in Kyungsoo’s mouth, and he’s not gay.

“Well,” Kyungsoo sighs tiredly, because everything happens so quickly it sucks life out of him. His jaw is still slightly aching and now he’s being dumped without getting together in the first place. “I guess now we’re not even friends.” Kyungsoo straightens up his clothes, tries make himself presentable, as presentable as butt of a joke can be. Then he strides out of the locker room with the biggest steps his short, compact legs can muster, because he can’t stand being in the same room with his non-gay ex-boy/best friend.

“What..?” Chanyeol scrambles up to follow, pulling up his briefs and shorts hastily. He almost matches Kyungsoo’s stride in no time, being the taller among the two. “Kyungsoo, wait!”

Kyungsoo halts abruptly and turns around, their chests almost colliding. He wants to take off the ring, the stupid soundwave ring, which meaning hasn’t been disclosed of after two fucking years, and throws it at Chanyeol’s face, but thinks better of it. Instead, he throws a punch with the hand wearing the ring. In this distance, Chanyeol didn’t see the punch coming, or if he did he didn’t have the time to fend it off, Chanyeol’s either cheekbone grazed by the ring. Kyungsoo breathes harshly, looking his fury to Chanyeol, who freezes in shock. Kyungsoo’s livid, his knuckles are hurting and he feels like crying. Only then does he take the ring off and throw it at Chanyeol’s face before it recoils from impact and falls to the floor, the sound of the ring swirling in a circular motion on the hallway floor the only sound accompanying their stare off. Chanyeol’s lips are moving hesitantly like he’s going to say something, his eyes pleading. Even in his rage Kyungsoo is willing to wait. Stupidly wishes for Chanyeol to take it all back. Chanyeol doesn’t. Kyungsoo storms off before he shows an ounce of sympathy or regret for Chanyeol’s appalled, bruised face.

***

Kyungsoo is not crying. He feels exhausted, thoroughly drained, worse than leftover juice pulp, and most importantly, _heartbroken,_ but he’s not crying.

He didn’t think this through. A lot of his friends are also Chanyeol’s. Heck, Chanyeol _is_ his roommate, lives literally a few feet away from him. He’s thought of losing people around Chanyeol if he and Chanyeol didn’t work out, but he didn’t have the mind to think of losing Chanyeol himself. They can’t just go back to being friends, not when he’s too in deep. Too late to backpedal and pretend he didn’t know the taste of Chanyeol’s cum. Too late to live with the guy in a shoebox room and pretend he didn’t feel anything for him.

He will look outstandingly stupid being around Chanyeol – or anyone in the dorm, really – right now.

He’s sitting in the subway, on the way to Ryeowook’s house, the senior he befriended way back when he was a freshman. Ryeowook was in the third year back then; now, he’s doing postgrad at the university, also the RA at the chem lab. He’s a hyung Kyungsoo relies on, seeks advice from, and Lord knows he needs it now.

Ryeowook is a lot like Jino and him, a little bit of a social wallflower, but the two of them are blessed with far superior observational skills than he possesses. He takes one look at Kyungsoo, sans preamble, and “ _Oh_ , _Kyungsoo_ ,” escapes his mouth. Just like that, and Kyungsoo is enveloped in Ryeowook’s arms at the doorsill.

Ryeowook pushes him gently towards the sofa and sits him down. Kyungsoo is relieved he’s not crying. Ryeowook would graciously allow him the moment, but that would have been embarrassing. Does he know?, Kyungsoo wonders. Has he been obvious in Ryeowook’s eyes, too? His phone won’t stop blowing up with texts and calls; he fishes it out of his back pocket, turns in off and throws it on to the seat next to him.

“Do you want anything? Water?” Kyungsoo hears Ryeowook ask.

“I feel so stupid right now, hyung, what should I do?” Kyungsoo asks instead. He looks up to see Ryeowook stare at him not so much with sympathy as it is understanding. Perhaps he would have done it anyway even if such was not the case, but he starts telling him the story from beginning, and save them both from the awkwardness that is what happened in the locker room prior to their fight.

“That bastard,” Ryeowook mutters after Kyungsoo has finished with his story-telling. “I knew it. I should have warned you.”

Kyungsoo frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Ryeowook shakes his head. “I mean, there was no way I could know for sure, and I’d hate to assume but I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I know the way he is around me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He always looks like he doesn’t know how to act around me when you make us hang out together and everyone knows I’m gay.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, people can be awkward around acquaintances. And I think he’s always known that I am, too,” Kyungsoo protests. Ryeowook shrugs in reply, says, “Maybe. That’s why I didn’t talk to you about it, because it might just be me, you know. But Kyungsoo, I’ve met guys like him. At least closet cases acknowledge their being in the closet, but guys like him? They would pretend there was no closet to begin with. If they can’t accept who they are, they will never be able to accept us for who we are. It’s not worth our time.”

Kyungsoo takes a shuddering breath, Ryeowook’s words piercing their way into his head, ringing true. “God, I thought we were boyfriends. I just presumptuously assumed things. How embarrassing. I fucked it up as much as he did.”

“Don’t you dare, Kyungsoo,” Ryeowook cautions. “If you did all the things that a couple does, of course it’s natural to think you’re a couple. How is this any of your fault? Stop thinking that, it’s toxic. That’s a self-hating spiral that will lead you to where Chanyeol drove himself.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t contest in a long while but nods eventually, mostly to reassure himself. Needs to let the words knock sense into his head. He sinks deeper into the upholstery, letting loose of his posture. He can’t face Chanyeol, not yet, and so he asks, “Can I crash at your place for tonight?”

Ryeowook nods and smiles understandingly. “Sure thing. Make yourself comfortable. My housemate is away for the weekend, I’m sure he doesn’t mind—”

“No, I’m good here,” Kyungsoo says quickly, patting the space next to him to make a point.

Shrugging his shoulder, Ryeowook then gets up from his seat. “I’ll get you a pillow and blanket later. I’m starving. Lunch?”

After lunch, Ryeowook drops by the campus to check in on his project at the lab, so Kyungsoo has to drive Ryeowook’s car back to his place. He sets the alarm for dinner and spends the whole afternoon napping on the couch. When he wakes up to the alarm the sky is looking like it’s going to rain any time soon. He quickly shrugs into his coat and grabs the car key to pick Ryeowook up as promised. His phone is still not switched on.

They dine at the tented street vendor for dinner. Kyungsoo queries Ryeowook about his project, not that he understands much of it, just so they don’t have to talk about what happened earlier in the day. Ryeowook tactfully allows Kyungsoo the privacy. They talk about politics, campus politics, office politics until Ryeowook is too tipsy to hide his anger at the university management office in public place and Kyungsoo drags Ryeowook back home.

It’s late into the night, but Kyungsoo isn’t sleepy. The living room is dark save for the dim light in the hallway. There’s a 40-inch LED TV mounted on the wall, complete with cable channels, a shelf of DVD next to it. That should be more than enough to distract himself, but the only thing occupying his mind is the phone, still switched off, sitting on the phone table. He stares at it from where he’s lying idle across the couch.

He reaches for the phone at last. Switches it on, waits for the device to load.

Hundreds of messages in some group chats that he doesn't bother to check. Several missed calls and texts from Jongdae, asking him his whereabout, that he should come home to talk, whatever that means. Jongdae probably is the only one in the know for now. Or the others just don’t give a fuck, it could be that, too. Understandable. Shitty real-life dramas are only fun to watch, not to be part of.

Two texts from Chanyeol. _‘Where are you? We need to talk’_ and ‘ _I’m sorry.’_

He deletes the text, getting worked up at the thought of Chanyeol pitying him. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, certainly not from the one who dumped him.

He falls asleep halfway through a foreign movie playing on the phone.

***

“Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo hears Chanyeol’s voice coming towards him, calling his name loudly across the campus hallway. Kyungsoo quickens his steps, storms through the small crowd. Hears Chanyeol apologize to someone, probably knocking into people with his flailing mile-long limbs. He’s been avoiding Chanyeol and the gang all day and succeeded. Until now. Just right before he gets to go home.

“I swear to God, Kyungsoo, if you don’t stop right now…” Chanyeol sounds exasperated, as if Kyungsoo is the one testing his patience beyond endurance instead of the other way around. Whatever makes Chanyeol think he’s the one entitled to feeling so, Kyungsoo is amazed, really.

He’s indignant, mad beyond consolation, but he stops in his track. Musters the courage to turn around. He does eventually, fists balled up at the sides.

Chanyeol stands too close, his height towering over Kyungsoo. A disadvantageous position to be at, having to look up at someone you’re probably about to fight with. Kyungsoo takes a step back with a straight face.

“We need to talk,” Chanyeol says earnestly, long fingers wrapped around the shoulder straps of his backpack, uncaring of people looking curiously their way.

Kyungsoo scoffs. “I’ve heard enough of what you got to say.”

“You never let me explain.”

“I read you loud and clear the first time.”

Chanyeol cards a hand through his hair. The ashy grey is fading, more brown than grey. There’s frustration in the simple act of distraction. He then stares at Kyungsoo, with lips clasped close he remains mum. The look of surrender in his eyes is painful to be on the receiving end of. He exhales visibly, and then says, “Then I hope you know that I’m honestly sorry.”

That’s it. Chanyeol is sorry. Until the very last moment, there was a traitorous voice in the back of Kyungsoo’s mind, whispering to him notions of hope. Of senseless what-ifs. What if Chanyeol mulled it over in his head and decided he liked Kyungsoo after all. What if Chanyeol was finally able to identify himself sexually fluid? What if Chanyeol this, Chanyeol that, anything that could bring them back to what they were.

That was, until now. Chanyeol has got time to think it over in his head all night, and he’s come to this conclusion, said it out loud. He was sorry, for not being what Kyungsoo hoped for. Sorry, because for all the kisses there were never feelings. Sorry, because Kyungsoo is a damn fool and fell for him.

At least he’s honest, and Kyungsoo can appreciate that. That Chanyeol at least respects him enough to tell him the truth.

And so he smiles at Chanyeol, despite everything else. Despite the turmoil in his head, the ache in his heart, he smiles. It tastes bitter in his mouth, probably looks as much as it is wan on the outside, but he tries his hardest not to crack. “I know,” he acknowledges. Words feel like bloody gravels forced out of his throat. “And I’m sorry, too.” Because after all, Kyungsoo is the fool who developed unwanted _feelings_ and complicated things.

“I guess I’ve always known why I let you string me along. I guess I’ve always known at the back of my mind that we would eventually come to this, and I just wanted to have whatever of you I could before we stopped being friends. You’re one selfish prick, Chanyeol, but I am, too.”

“Kyungsoo…” There’s a trail of Chanyeol voice, sounding apologetic, and only then does Kyungsoo realize the tears brimming in his eyes. He blinks them away, hastily turns around to find the exit before he embarrasses himself even further in front of Chanyeol.

 

When he gets to the dorm there’s only Jongin napping on the top bunk. He grabs a few clothes and shoves them into the duffle, tries to make as little sound as possible so as not to wake his roommate up. Jongin stirs awake anyway at the sound of Kyungsoo’s packing.

“Hyung?” Jongin’s voice. Groggy.

Kyungsoo halts midway shoving the laptop into the backpack. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

Jongin does the opposite. He sits up and holds the railing on the side of the bed, observing Kyungsoo. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

“I’m, uh . . .” Kyungsoo reaches for the charger at the plug, pulls it off, and plunks on the bedside. Fiddling with the cable, he continues, “I’m not gonna be around for a while.”

It usually takes Jongin a while to get down from his bed after waking up but not at this second. It’s no time before he climbs down the wooden mini-steps attached to the bunks. “What do you mean?”

“I just need some space,” Kyungsoo quickly reassures. He scoots aside to give room to Jongin. Jongin climbs under the blanket, looking a lot like he is about to resume his napping anytime soon.

“Things have changed between Chanyeol and I, and I need time, is all,” Kyungsoo answers honestly. It feels like something Jongin would want to know. He’s their roommate, after all. He deserves to know at least the surface of it.

Jongin curls up on the mattress, rolls to a more comfortable position. “It doesn’t work out, does it?” He asks, quiet and unsure. Perhaps worrying if it would offend Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

Jongin reaches out to hold Kyungsoo by the knee, an act of consolation. “But you are best friends before anything else.”

When boundaries have been crossed it’s time to reevaluate a friendship, but Jongin is right. Nodding in admission, Kyungsoo takes a shaky breath. “I wish it was that simple.” Because feelings are never non sequitur. Feelings are simply reverberative to how things have been building up, and Kyungsoo has been building it up on delusions and fantasies; things are bound to shatter. His only fault is he didn’t know better.

“Anyway, it’s just temporary. I gotta submit my thesis soon, so,” Kyungsoo reassures, pats Jongin’s hand on his knee and then removes it to stand on his legs. Puts on his sweater and another layer of coat, shrugs his backpack on, and picks up his duffle. That should afford him a week of not having to get back to the dorm and face the consequences. “I’ll see you around.”

Jongin gives a sluggish nod, waving Kyungsoo goodbye from where he is still lying. The door closes and the room doesn’t see Kyungsoo until next weekend.

Ryeowook’s housemate is the kind of tenant who only ever really shows up elsewhere other than his room when he wants to get in and out of the house, and he’s a cool guy who, if he minds Kyungsoo living in his living room, doesn’t show it. Not that Kyungsoo doesn’t try to blend in well with articles of furniture so his presence will not stick out like a sore thumb. He makes as little sound as possible, pads on his toes, and only ever uses his laptop for his school work. The most noisy he gets is only when he occasionally cooks for them, but the guy likes his cooking, so there’s that.

At the campus he sees the gang around. Chances upon them in the hallway, cafeteria. They smile at him and he smiles back. No one ever really stops him to talk. Perhaps Chanyeol has got something to do with that. Jongdae shares most classes with him, so he’s the only with access to Kyungsoo and if Kyungsoo ever knows him, Jongdae will utilize it very well somehow.

At first Jongdae pretends as if nothing happened. He greets and talks to Kyungsoo like he always does. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what Chanyeol has told them but everyone has been decent actors of non-participant so far. Jongdae, however, lasts for a good week before he bursts out at the almost empty class during lunch hour, Kyungsoo at the side eating a tuna bun.

“Will you guys just fucking talk? I’m fucking sick of this!”

Kyungsoo stops chewing the food, looks up at Jongdae in surprise. He’s expected the lash out, not the timing. “Your voice, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo warns between munches. It’s a well-known fact that Jongdae’s voice projection is unparalleled. Unfortunately, this is not a stage play, not a situation in which superior projection is an advantage.

Jongdae rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “How long are you going to drag this lovers’ spat?”

“First thing, there’s no dragging. Second, no lovers. Third, no spat. It’s over,” Kyungsoo shrugs.

“Then why aren’t you back at the dorm?”

“I just need some space, I told you that.”

“If it’s over then you wouldn’t have problem living together with us.”

“I said it’s over for me and him.” The bolus in his throat feels hard to swallow. “I never said I’d got over him.”

That shuts Jongdae up.

“Then why?” Jongdae rests his right elbow on the over-chair table, no longer in an offensive posture. It’s magical how words, when expressed in earnest, soften people. The tuna bun tastes bland in Kyungsoo’s mouth. He folds the plastic wrapper and holds it in his lap, lunch on hold. “Did Chanyeol say anything? To you? Anyone else?”

“He told us to respect your decision, and not to ‘act weird’,” Jongdae quips, complete with dramatic air quotes. “Kyungsoo, please, fill me in. He’s been tightlipped about the whole fiasco, I hate it. I’ve been trying really hard to give both of you fuck-ups space, but it’s just so frustrating. You know how he gets. He’s full of things to say all the fucking time, but when things get deeper than the skin, watch him bail out of the conversation.”

Kyungsoo fiddles with the plastic wrapper, pondering of the right things to say. It’s different hearing things about Chanyeol than talking to the person himself. Sometimes it seems Chanyeol is much more accessible via a third party. Chanyeol’s not detached nor is he emotionally stunted, but for some reason, when it comes to saying things to Kyungsoo’s face, nonchalance is his proxy.

“It’s unfair that he said it’s my decision. It’s mine as much as it is his. He decided he doesn’t want me, Jongdae. What else was I supposed to do?” Kyungsoo knows he sounds like whining, a pity party, but perhaps by hearing it Jongdae will knock sense into his head in order for him to move on.

“But you told me you kissed,” Jongdae contests instead.

“Apparently you can kiss someone and not have feelings. You can have a guy’s tongue stuck down your throat and you’re not gay. Surprise, surprise.”

“Oh, boy.” Jongdae literally face-palms. “I know someone fucked up and knowing you two, I’d guessed it was probably him but I didn’t know it was _that._ ”

“Yeah.” When Jongdae put it like that, Kyungsoo can’t help but snicker. “How is he anyway? He’s got another game this weekend, right?

“Yeah, been practicing day and night.” Jongdae acts a shudder as his mind wanders, perhaps imagining the hard work.

“Aren’t they on a taper though? Isn’t that how sports works?”

“You asked me. All I ever know is the stage. I’ve never seen him work like that. My muscles and joints ache just looking at him.”

“Well, he’s competitive. So is Minho. It’s probably just them on the court.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jongdae’s perpetually curled up lips form a fleeting, knowing smirk before a sad smile takes over. “But, I don’t know. Everyone is so used to him having things to say all the time, you know. But he, well, he’s kinda quiet lately, everyone in the dorm takes notice. And I’m sure that has got something to do with you.”

“We don’t know that,” Kyungsoo argues. “Maybe he just really wants to win the game. Superfocused is his thing. It’s his last chance for the rookie draft, you know that.”

“Kyungsoo, I’ve known him for like, what, a decade? I’ve seen him get all kinds of anxious over all kinds of things. But he’s not the kind to sit and ponder if he’s gonna do it, gonna win the game. If he wants to win the game, he doesn’t tell us he wants to, he just tells us he will. He gets things done and he’ll tell you as much. But after that kickoff last weekend, something’s off. You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence with what happened between the two of you.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t like the way the conversation is going. It’s as though Jongdae wanted to pin what’s wrong with Chanyeol on someone, and Kyungsoo happened to be that person with the bullseye on his face. “Did you miss the part where I said he doesn’t want me? I can’t change anything here, you understand that? You cannot force feelings on people.”

“I don’t buy it.” Jongdae is back to sitting straight on his spine, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t believe for a second he doesn’t like you.”

“Well.” Kyungsoo gathers his note and ball pen. There’s another class left for the day but the conversation with Jongdae has left him dry. He needs his bed, but considering his temporary move-out, Ryeowook’s couch will have to do. “You don’t speak for him, Jongdae. If he says no, then, it’s no.”

He stands up, shrugging the backpack onto his either shoulder, and then as Kyungsoo turns around the backdoor for lecture hall is swung opened, revealing all six feet of Park Chanyeol. Kyungsoo can’t help but notice the change of expression on Chanyeol. He’s most probably looking for Jongdae. It must have slipped in his mind that Kyungsoo might be here as well.

Chanyeol steps into the hall, eyes not leaving Kyungsoo. It was only less than a week since Kyungsoo saw him, but it feels like quite a while.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol calls, but his eyes are still trained on Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo wants to get away from the place, but it feels like his toes have been screwed shut into the floor, rendering him immobile. Kyungsoo doesn’t turn around, but the shuffle of Jongdae packing up his things is unmistakable. “Jongdae.” It’s Kyungsoo’s turn to be calling Jongdae’s name. More pleading than anything else, really. _Stay_ , he would have suffixed if he didn’t mind appearing like he would need back up just to stand in front of Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo hears Jongdae, muttering something under his breath, who then resolutely says, “Don’t drag me into this. I’ll talk to you guys later.” The hurried footsteps echoing further and the sound of the backdoor being swung open and close, it all registers in Kyungsoo’s head belatedly. They’re alone again. And the last time they were alone it wasn’t pretty.

“Will you come?” Chanyeol asks. He sounds closer than he looks. He sounds like how he does when he whispers to converse in the train, not like he’s standing six feet away.

“What?” is Kyungsoo’s elaborate reply.

“To the game,” Chanyeol responds impatiently.

Chanyeol’s sticky note on Kyungsoo’s forehead, scribbled with “You’re my lucky charm!” flashes in his mind. A lot can change in a week, Kyungsoo has learned this the hard way. “No,” he says, because there’s nothing else to say.

“Oh. . .” Chanyeol’s mouth forms an ‘O’. “But everyone else is gonna be there.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t.” Kyungsoo forces his feet to move, takes a step back and away from the one standing in front of him. Bangs the door louder than necessary. Just a little bit. Kyungsoo has never had the nerve to go all out showing his anger. But seriously, who cares if Barack Obama is gonna be there? Kyungsoo has no business to be there, and Chanyeol has no right to act like he does.

Instead of going back to Ryeowook’s house, he rides the scooter to the Han River and sits there until his tummy grumbles.

***

Kyungsoo has been spending the whole day sitting at the library, his laptop on the long table, several volumes of references scattered around it. He has planned to be productive this weekend, work his ass off, wake up and sleep to his thesis. Right now he makes the perfect picture of productivity.

That’s the trick. He’s just the picture of it, hardly in truth productive because Jongdae and Baekhyun are a stubborn pair of friends who think they could think on his behalf, that he would want to know the updates for Chanyeol’s game. Kyungsoo certainly does not, but his phone keeps vibrating anyway because some people don’t know how to give up, even with Kyungsoo’s lack of response. Funny how he once thought they would ditch him as soon as he and Chanyeol parted ways.

Another vibration. Kyungsoo grabs his phone and sets it to complete silence, not even vibration. He also peeks at the messages. Apparently their varsity is a few points behind the opponent. Kyungsoo buries the urge to ask for details, sorting out priorities. By the time the library is closing, about four odd hours later, he checks the phone. They lost. It’s the first string league, and they have four more games to go to qualify for the playoff season, but Kyungsoo feels bad anyway.

It’s become a habit, Kyungsoo staying in the library. If he’s not doing rehearsals for the play, that is. It turns out the university library is the perfect place to eat (junk) food, sleep – he prefers single cubicles for such activities – do assignment, and of course, study, not necessarily all at the same time. Kyungsoo regrets not having the epiphany from the first year. Perhaps he would have better grades if he was introduced to the library sooner. Well, maybe not so much, but he likes to think it as a possibility.

It’s been a while since anyone talked to him about Chanyeol. Not even Jongdae. Baekhyun tried one time, but as soon as Kyungsoo raised his hand to mock-hit him, the guy laughed and ran out of the class. Chanyeol has been under the radar, perhaps living more on the court than he does elsewhere. His latest game, as told by Baekhyun, was a draw. Fourth in the league, currently. Only top three teams will advance to the playoff season, Kyungsoo can’t help but worry. As a captain, the pressure on Chanyeol must be no joke.

Kyungsoo contemplates texting him, thumb hovering over the screen. Takes a while to decide against it. When he does, he shoves it back in to the pocket of his backpack. The librarian announces through the speaker the library is closing in half an hour. Kyungsoo packs his stuff and gets ready to go back. A week ago, he’s moved into a new dorm because Ken, the guy from the drama club, also his course mate, has an empty bed in his room, so Kyungsoo just kinda sneaked in without telling the campus management about the arrangement. If he does, he will have to let go of his room with Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo needs more time to think before deciding on something so permanent.

His new room is only a block away from the old one. He looks up at the building, sees the room with the window opened, light off. Stares at it, wondering if Chanyeol has fallen asleep this early. Then he goes up to his course mate’s room. Ken isn’t around; it’s Saturday night anyways. Not everyone has to be stuck in their room and wonder about the what-ifs and maybes of the one that got away.

Just as he lies down, his phone in the backpack rings. He scrambles off the bed and fishes the phone out, takes a look at the caller ID and feels his heart lurching in its ribcage. He takes a preparatory breath and taps on and slides the green virtual button against the screen with his thumb.

“Hello?”

“Kyungsoo . . .” Chanyeol whines. Ah, there it is. Chanyeol’s drunken slur. It’s been a while since the last time Kyungsoo was the receiving end of it. “Kyungsoo, come back home.”

He refuses to be affected by the naked need in Chanyeol’s plead but he almost flinches at the way Chanyeol said ‘home’. Like he means it. Like there was a place at which Kyungsoo and Chanyeol belong together.

“Why didn’t you come to the games? You’re my lucky charm, I’ve been outta it and it’s your fault. I miss you.” Even if he wasn’t slurring, Kyungsoo would have known his state of intoxication by the nonsense he’s spitting over the phone. “I miss you so much, Kyungsoo, you’re all I could think about.”

Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. “You say the darndest things when you’re drunk.” What the hell was he thinking? All the maybes, all the what-ifs aren’t nothing but his setting himself up for disappointment. “Tell it to my face when you’re sober,” Kyungsoo says anyway, frank and open. Heart mending is a long process, and he should have probably left it at ‘stop saying bullshit when you’re drunk’ if he wants to shorten the time it will take, but Chanyeol owes him that, doing things to and for and with Kyungsoo, sober.

“Just come back, I’ll move out if you don’t wanna see me again,” Chanyeol responds instead.

That’s where Chanyeol is wrong. He’s acting like Kyungsoo’s the one who said no to the prospect of them being together. _‘If you don’t wanna see me again’_ sounds so accusatory, it makes Kyungsoo’s blood boil. As if everything they are now stemmed from Kyungsoo’s distaste of his presence.

“Right, because with me around you’ll be infected by the gay.” He says it so bitingly it’s unlike him. He usually holds things in, never really lashes out to anyone. But Chanyeol’s words just rubbed him the wrong way and he wanted to sting. Chanyeol gets still on the line, his soft breathing the only sound. Kyungsoo wonders if he’s fallen asleep.

“Kyungsoo . . .” Chanyeol clears his throat, sounding like he’s sobering up. “You know it’s not like that.” Kyungsoo can almost hear the click of Chanyeol’s mental gear shifting out of the alcohol-induced haze.

“I don’t know.” Kyungsoo can be stubbornly unyielding if he wants.

“Why did you say that when you know I love you?”

Kyungsoo is enraged. How dare Chanyeol. How dare he use the word love when he doesn’t realize what it entails to Kyungsoo. It’s a cheap ploy to get even and Kyungsoo’s so mad he’s tearing up. “I don’t know anything. God, Chanyeol, I wish I never knew you.” And Kyungsoo cuts the line, throws the phone onto the pillow and for the first time since their breakup, he cries his heart out.

***

“And it’s not even the worst thing, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo laments, “the worst thing is, for a moment, before I went off at him, I believed him.” He lies down on the hardwood floor of the stage, Jongdae sitting by his legs, staring at him in sympathy.

“Because he was telling the truth,” Jongdae answers all knowingly. He’s obviously forgotten of Kyungsoo’s warning not to speak on Chanyeol’s behalf.

“I don’t know how to convince you if he couldn’t, but Kyungsoo, that bastard, he loves you. He just needs to sort himself out first.”

“Stop telling me there’s hope.” Kyungsoo begs, kicking a leg half-hearted at Jongdae’s direction. “I need to pull myself together, too, and I can’t do that if my mind keeps tricking me into believing him, you.”

“Nobody is tricking anyone, have a little faith.” Jongdae shrugs, watching over the dimly lit audience seat from the stage. “I know him, Kyungsoo. I’ve watched him fall in love many times. I know each of his girlfriend, but the way he gazed at you, stole a glance, it’s nothing I’ve seen before. Perhaps had you seen it, you’d have believed me. Just, you know, don’t give up him.”

Absorbing Jongdae’s words, Kyungsoo stills in silence. “What’s so great about it? The way he looks at me,” Kyungsoo eventually asks because despite not wanting to get his hopes up, his heart wants to be at peace, perhaps lives a little in complacence.

“Like he’s in love with you,” comes Jongdae’s bold reply. He scoots backwards and lies down next to Kyungsoo. “Like he’s so in love with you yet can’t handle how much.”

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes closed to bask in the words. It feels like a comfort, works as such, but perhaps it’s nothing more than just words of assurances, Jongdae’s desperate attempt to glue the clique back together. He’s the buffer after all. The voice of reason, a super loud one at that. Though Kyungsoo indubitably, desperately wants to believe, his mind won’t have it.

Still, his thumb rubs over the strip of skin where the soundwave ring used to be, the phantom clutch of the intricately carved platinum on to Kyungsoo’s skin ingrained.

The companionable silence is broken when Jongdae asks, “Anyway, you ready for tomorrow?”

Kyungsoo nods his affirmation. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

***

It’s an impressive crowd for a mere university level stage play, Kyungsoo thinks, peeking through the stage heavy curtain. He’s done his makeup earlier, so he gets to loosen up, just walking around the backstage. Ken, Baekhyun and Junmyeon are getting ready with the mic stands behind the curtain, scheduled to open the night with two songs.

“Hey, Alice!” Baekhyun stage whispers and Kyungsoo turns around from peeping, raising his chin questioningly.

“You all good?” Baekhyun asks. Despite his nonchalance exterior, he’s a lot more caring than he lets on. Kyungsoo smiles and dips his chin in acknowledgement. He wishes them luck before he goes back to the backstage.

Jongdae is doing a last minute briefing to the prop team. He looks funny in his pink-purple striped coverall. Kyungsoo stares down on his costume – nothing dramatic with a short-sleeved white shirt and ankle-length black slacks and black loafers. He breathes out in relief recalling back how he had to fight the production team that asked him to wear a blue puffed dress with a white pinafore worn over the top.

He saunters back to the makeup room, and when he looks up there is Jino, physical and standing at the doorsill, beaming wide at him. Kyungsoo barrels through the hallway and pulls his friend into a tight hug. “You didn’t tell!” he yells excitedly, slapping Jino’s back.

“That’s how a surprise works, buddy,” Jino chuckles lightly, like he does everything else, ever so composed. It’s been months and nothing has changed with him, except for the sun-kissed glow and broader shoulders. The marine did him well. Kyungsoo tells him as much.

Jino shrugs his shoulders, grinning still, and slings an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulders, leading them into narrow hallway. Kyungsoo snakes an arm over his back. Kyungsoo has missed him.

“Does Chanyeol know you’re here?” Kyungsoo tries to sound as normal as he can, for Jino isn’t in the know of the mess as far as Kyungsoo is concerned.

“He picked me up at the train station.” Jino replies. His grip on Kyungsoo’s shoulder tightens. “Just give him a little more time. Consider it a grace period. He’ll get through.”

So much for not being in the know. News travel not only faster but also farther than the wind in their circle of friends; Kyungsoo really should stop letting this fact surprise him every time. “There’s no getting through _this,_ is there?” Kyungsoo asks, rhetorical. If Jino will have answered Kyungsoo doesn’t know because that’s when Jongdae shows up from the prop room and shouts Jino’s name from across the hallway. Kyungsoo watches fondly as the two exchange greetings in the disguise of name calling.

When Baekhyun and the gang have finished the first song, Jino wishes them luck and excuses himself to sit in the audience while Jongdae’s team gets ready for the first scene.

***

Kyungsoo holds tighter Jongdae and Baekhyun’s hand in the grasp of his either hand. Bows with them to the cheering crowd. At least this one thing is over, only his thesis left to work on. He beams in the spotlight, reveling in the support and enjoyment. He rotates his head to left and right, where Jongdae and Baekhyun are standing respectively, their face a mirror of his own. He turns back to face the audience, searching for familiar faces among the crowd. The light is blinding and the floor is too dark to see, so Kyungsoo gives up and drinks it all in as Jongdae gives the closing speech for the night.

Kyungsoo absentmindedly nods along to what until Jongdae is telling everyone to give it up to his ‘dear friend who’s in deep shit and needs to make amends’.

Jongdae pulls him down the stage to stand between the walkway between the seats. Kyungsoo’s rendered stupor, going through the motions as he watches Chanyeol’s lanky legs climb up the stairs two steps at a time, his good old guitar strapped on his back. Baekhyun is apparently still on the stage, producing the stool and lowering the mic stands deftly. Jino appears from the audience and stands by his side, Kyungsoo sandwiched between Jongdae and him.

Kyungsoo can only stare in disbelief.

Chanyeol takes a seat on the stood and levels the microphone for himself, then fiddles another for his guitar. “Uh, hello, everyone,” Chanyeol greets after clearing his throat.

The crowd has long stopped dispersing and got back to their seats. A few have left, but a lot remain inside. Their cheer for him is defeaning. Chanyeol is pretty well known and more importantly well-liked, this hardly comes as a surprise that these people are still in their seat in support. The cheer dies down into an expectant hush.

“I don’t really regret things in life, but these few weeks have been regretful. Yet, I’m also thankful. I’ve learned to embrace the very meaning of self-acceptance – still learning, really – and, uh, a best friend once told me to reach out for him whenever I’m in doubt, and I was in the biggest doubt of my life, but I clammed up and it all went down the drain. So this is me, reaching out again. To Kyungsoo.”

The collective murmur that cues as soon as Chanyeol finishes his introduction sounds like white noise. The moment Chanyeol said his name, Kyungsoo feels too numb for anything else.

Then Chanyeol starts plucking the guitar. The familiar tune of Kim Dongryul’s Drunken Truth turns murmurs into gasps. Put two guys together and a sappy, confessional song – context does that.

Chanyeol’s deep voice starts filling in the auditorium, accompanied by the guitar, and Kyungsoo feels like he’s looking at Chanyeol and him from an aerial view, out-of-body experience. Except all the feelings that the song is eliciting, he’s feeling it too.

“Shit, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, let alone Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun comments when Chanyeol’s finished, standing behind them. Kyungsoo didn’t notice when he’s sneaked in. The crowd is clapping and cheering enthusiastically, most probably Chanyeol’s basketball team being the loudest. Anyone who knows Korean, pretty much every single one in the auditorium, will have understood the implication of Chanyeol’s singing. It’s basically a grand gesture of confession. Kyungsoo feels the curious stare from the crowd burn through him, but the only one he’s paying attention to is Chanyeol, sitting on the stool, looking at him from afar in expectation, perhaps waiting for the next move.

Kyungsoo wrenches free of his friends’ hold and dashes out of the auditorium instead.

***

Han River is serene at this time, but he can still hear people playing basketball at a nearby court, distant, occasional laughter from people afar. He didn’t think this through; the air is so chilly he’s practically shivering, wearing only the costume for Alice.

“There you are.”

Kyungsoo jolts in his seat at the familiar voice. He keeps his head straight ahead overlooking the river.

“Kyungsoo.”

There’s something about the way Chanyeol calls his name that makes him weak in the knees. It doesn’t mean Kyungsoo has to turn around and acknowledge him.

“Have you changed your mind about me? About us? Because if you do then I’ll see myself out.”

Well, Kyungsoo kinda has to turn around and acknowledge him now, doesn’t he? He turns around and shakes his head. Chanyeol takes it as an invitation to sit next to him on the grass, but not without draping his jacket onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder beforehand.

“It’s freaking cold out here,” Chanyeol remarks, justifying his action, as if he weren’t the one more sensitive to the cold.

“What was what?” Kyungsoo asks obstinately. He’s not here for the introductory weather speak.

“Well, you said I always said the darndest things when I’m drunk. So I tried to do it sober.”

“Are you drunk right now? I swear to God, Chanyeol, if you’re drunk right now—“

“No, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol answers patiently. “I’m in love with you.”

Kyungsoo’s heart does a flip in the ribcage. But they’re this far and he needs to listen to certain things before he acts on his feelings because the last time he did, he got his heart broken. “But you’re not gay,” he challenges.

“I guess this is the part where I recite the lines from Coffee Prince. ‘I’ll say this just once, I’ll say this just once. I like you. Whether you’re a man or an alien, I don’t care anymore’,” Chanyeol mimics, complete with Choi Hankyul’s lilt in his voice. Kyungsoo looks his lack of amusement to him, glaring with a poker face on.

Chanyeol takes a hand from Kyungsoo’s lap, brings it to his, his thumb rubbing over the Kyungsoo’s knuckles. His hands are ice cold. “It was a hard time for me, too. I’m sorry I took this long to sort my thoughts out, but I want you, Kyungsoo. Even if it means I had to reevaluate some aspects in my life that make me what I am, sexual orientation included.”

Kyungsoo turns his hand to give Chanyeol’s a squeeze, looking up at the latter. Chanyeol is baring himself open and Kyungsoo wants to let him know that he’s here for him. Kyungsoo shifts to rest his head on Chanyeol’s arm. “Thank you. Believe it or not, I never meant to make your life difficult,” Kyungsoo whispers in earnest. “Grand confession and whatnot.”

Chanyeol chuckles, pulling Kyungsoo tighter by the side. He’s probably doing it out of seeking warmth as much as it is affection. “Jino came all the way from Busan for that, can you believe it?”

“So he didn’t actually come to watch our play?”

“Let’s be real, between your stage and my—ouch!”

A blow using the elbow aimed at the ribs, Kyungsoo classic weapon when dealing with Chanyeol. Chanyeol bends in laughter, and also pain, probably, judging by the way he’s rubbing the spot at the side of his torso. Kyungsoo strokes the side of his waist in apology.

“Why did you run away? Everyone at the auditorium thought I was ceremoniously dumped.”

Because the only thing Kyungsoo could think of was Chanyeol being drunk. He couldn’t have handled that without trying to severe any of Chanyeol’s limbs, so it was more for the benefit of Chanyeol. Chanyeol cracks up, muffling his laughter by kissing Kyungsoo’s temple when he tells him all of that. “I’m sorry,” he chants, but the novelty is not lost on Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo could probably listen to it all day, as long as it’s whispered softly into his hair like this.

The bliss doesn’t last long. He starts thinking of the repercussions of Chanyeol’s coming out in public, and it stuns him. “Chanyeol, you do realize how this substantially changes a lot of things in your life? You’ll have to deal with the stigma and intolerance and perception and it’s even worse in sports. I don’t want you to go through any of that because of me. Lord, I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“I did it for myself, too.” Chanyeol smiles, reassuring. Kyungsoo is in awe of how calm he is in the midst of everything. Then, Chanyeol adds, “What I can’t believe is that you still want me back after I fucked up.”

Kyungsoo has thought about it. He got out of Chanyeol’s life because he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, as much as he did because he was mad at Chanyeol. Kyungsoo’s thought it’s foolish that he was still trying to be considerate of Chanyeol’s feelings even after what happened in the locker room. But it’s not all there is to it, when Kyungsoo thinks of it. It would have been easy to hate on Chanyeol, he would have felt vindicated, but Kyungsoo has forgiven Chanyeol as soon as he apologized, because ultimately, Kyungsoo is no saint – he did because while hurting Chanyeol, he was hurt, too, and because he couldn’t see past his own pain, in his selfishness, he forgave. Nothing self-sacrificing about putting your own happiness above else.

“You’re freezing cold.” Kyungsoo rubs Chanyeol’s hand between his, keeps the thought to himself. That warrants another conversation.

“Yeah, because you stole my jacket.”

“You tried to go all drama’s hero cliché on me. I don’t need your damn jacket.”

Chanyeo laughs quietly, his body shaking along Kyungsoo’s with it. Kyungsoo can’t help but smile. When the laughter has fizzled out, Chanyeol divulges, “People always say I make you happy, but Kyungsoo, you make me happy, too. Without you, things were just not the same. I felt . . . incomplete.”

Chanyeol produces a familiar-looking ring from his pocket. The soundwave ring with an unknown message. The one Kyungsoo punched with and threw at Chanyeol’s face. He cringes at the memory.

“I’ve never told you what it holds. I should have guessed why I was so reluctant to share with you, because it’s not something one does for a friend, but it didn’t really occur to me then.”

Kyungsoo takes the rings from Chanyeol’s palm, thumbs the inscription of the soundwave along the ring, wondering what it says.

Reading Kyungsoo’s mind, Chanyeol explains, “It’s your voice from Sehun’s video for my birthday, remember? In the next 10, 20, 30, 100 years, let's always be together.”

Kyungsoo could have never guessed that.

“I didn’t know why I felt the need to immortalize that into something physical that I wear every single day. I know now.”

“But,” Kyungsoo is as confused as he is heartened, “you gave me this ring a long time ago.”

Chanyeol shrugs his shoulder. “You weren’t the only one in love.”

Kyungsoo will have kissed Chanyeol if it’s not for the fact that they’re in public. Even embracing each other like this will raise questions to seeing eyes. But they’re sitting in a pretty secluded area, if the bush is of any help. He settles for a quick peck on Chanyeol’s jaw instead, oozing with affection for him. “I love you, too, and you owe me the whole story of this goddamned ring, among other things. Now, let’s go home before you freeze to death.”

Chanyeol beams impossibly wide he’s going to break his face. “You love me.”

Eyes are rolled so hard it may have come out of the sockets. “Of course I do, you ass, I wrote a whole sonnet for you.”

“You did?” Chanyeol asks, bewildered. It’s interesting the way Chanyeol’s face is so emotive.

“No, but I sucked your dick which is kind of the same thing.”

Chanyeol is, once again, shaking with laughter. “I told everyone you’re hilarious but no one believed me.” Kyungsoo snorts so hard actual droplets of mucus might have come out.

“Although I do think it’s imperative that you remind me of your loving me,” Chanyeol says in a pretentious tone.

“Oh, really,” Kyungsoo adopts the most unimpressed expression his facial features know how to form.

“Yes, really.” Chanyeol nods his head up and down repetitively, looking silly doing it while stepping backwards, ready to flee at the face of impending punishment. When Kyungsoo quickens his steps, Chanyeol makes a beeline for his scooter parked next to Kyungsoo with laughter bubbling in his throat and Kyungsoo thinks, he really, really loves Chanyeol.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from the song Chanyeol sang in the fic: [Kim Dongryul - 취중진담 (Drunken Truth) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3Wjv9JW_6A)
> 
> Chen also sang the song on King of Masked Singer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnk9Wo-6MOQ&feature=youtu.be
> 
> Maybe I'll revisit this verse to change what I don't like about it but for now I just want start working on something else. SOMETHING UNDER 5K LAWD SEE IF I EVER WRITE ANYTHING THIS LONG AGAIN.


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